


In A Hole in The Ground (There lived a Hobbit, his Dwarf, and their kids)

by badskippy



Series: A Hobbit's Hole (er I mean SMIAL!) [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Becuase I can't resist, CHAPTERS MAY BE SHORT OR LONG, Explicit Language, Homophobia, Humor, I am so sorry, I have gone over to the dark side, I have played with ages, I have played with reality, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love, M/M, Mpeg, Possibly Slow to Update - but I will try to be good about it, Sad, better BotFA, but i am not really THAT sorry, but it gets better, i have blown canon all to hell, i have played with timline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1765915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is dead (not really), Bilbo is sad (for sure), Lobelia's a nasty piece of work (not a surprise), Prim and Drogo want to help (they love Bilbo) and little Frodo just wants a story (who doesn't??)</p><p>Or the one where lies, fibs and misconceptions really suck!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tell Me A Story

**Author's Note:**

> I have played hard and loose with canon, ages, parentage, relations and even reality. JUST so you know, I have basically blown canon out of the water - BOOM!!
> 
> THIS IS MY FIRST REAL ATTEMPT AT COMEDY - I HOPE I CAN PULL IT OFF ......

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little one wants a story (of course), his Adad gives in (as always), his Papa is sleeping (like a good Hobbit would) and naturally, the best story is the story about how it all started (naturally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Khuz-dul Translations**  
>  Adad – father  
> Ughvashâ – greatest treasure

           

* * *

 

            The little fauntling opened his bedroom door slowly and peeked out so that he had a good view down the long hallway. There was flickering light coming from the front room and that told him the fire in the hearth was still burning strongly. He inched his way out and tiptoed down along the wooden floor until he reached the corner of the front entryway. He paused and listened; he could most definitely hear the fire crackling low but there was no other sounds.

            Once again, he began to tiptoe until reaching the small passage that lead from the front door to the parlour. As the front room came fully into view, he saw his Papa sleeping in his chair; a blanket over his legs and lap. He slowly and silently, made his way into the front room when a deep voice stopped him.

            “What are you doing out of bed?”

            The fauntling startled and jumped around, only to come face to face with the one person he was really looking for.

            “I cou'dn’t s'eep, Adad,” the little one said in a loud whisper. He hadn’t seen his Adad sitting in the chair opposite his Papa.

            “You couldn’t sleep?” asked the burly Dwarf with a narrowed scowl on his face that the fauntling failed to realize was actually affectionate. “And why do you think you can’t sleep.”

            The fauntling just shrugged his shoulders with wide-eyes. “Can I sit wif you 'til I get s'eepy?”

            The Dwarf narrowed his eyes a bit more and twisted his mouth as if he had to think very hard about the request, but he was already moving to lift his son into his lap and tuck him to his side.

            The fauntling cuddled up to the broad chest he loved so much and laid his head against the cool linen shirt, where he could feel the thick, soft chest hair of his Adad through the cloth.   The boy looked over and saw that his Papa was still sleeping contently in the chair, the lap-blanket still in place; just as any good Hobbit would be in front of the fire. Looking at the older Hobbit, the boy had an idea.

            “Adad?” the fauntling whispered.

            “Yes, ughvashâ,” the Dwarf said in a rumbling whisper that made the fauntling feel even safer.

            “Wills you tell me ah story?” The fauntling raised his eyes to see if his Adad would be willing.

            “A story, huh?” because of course, the boy’s Adad was more than willing.

            The fauntling nodded in a pleading way.

            “Very well,” the Dwarf said and then took a deep breath to continue. “Once upon a time, in a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.”

            “Was t'e Hobbit beautiful?” The fauntling was sure he had heard this story before but he wanted to make sure.

            The boy’s Adad chuckled low. “Yes, ughvashâ, the Hobbit was very beautiful.”

            “Was it Papa?”

            “Yes, Frodo, it was your Papa.”

            Frodo smiled, settled in and waited; he loved this story.

            “Now,” Thorin said as he gazed lovingly at Bilbo still sleeping across from him. “One day, a wizard came to visit. And he brought along twelve dwarves.”

            “Only twe've, Adad?” Frodo was confused.

            “Well, thirteen,” Thorin corrected. “But one got lost along the way—twice.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. He's Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's pissed (of course), the Dwarfs are hungry (have you seen the pantry), the Wizard is amused (jerk), and Thorin is so full of himself (and Bilbo wants to be full of Thorin too!)

 

* * *

 

            “I don’t know,” the older Dwarf—Ballsy or Balton; Bilbo couldn't remember—said with a crinkled nose. “I think it’s supposed to be cheese—it’s riddled with mold.”

            Bilbo tried to remain calm because he wanted to say, _Of course it’s riddled with mold, it’s blue cheese!_ But he was stopped; he could only watch in horror as his favorite cheese went sailing past his face to land on the atrium floor—splat.

            _Well, really!_

            Bilbo didn’t get to say _anything_ at that point because there was _another_ loud knock on the door. So shocked at what was happening in his pantry, he stumbled towards the entry, secretly hoping that it was the Shirriff, come to take away these confusticated Dwarfs! But, no, no—no such luck. Bilbo only groaned when the front door opened to reveal, not law enforcement, but two Dwarfs that Bilbo would later come to call, The Twin Terrors.

            Yes, granted, he did find out at a later date, that the two were, in fact, not twins at all. However, their annoyingly mischievous ways, and oh so, _not_ funny teasing and double dose of puppy eyes— _Honestly!_ _And they called themselves of age_ —only added to the idea that while they may have been separated at birth by four years, the two were nonetheless double-trouble!

            In those first moments though, Bilbo was near speechless. First the blond one—Felix or Fabian or what have you—started loading up Bilbo’s arms with weapons— _and just WHAT in the name of the Green Lady was he suppose to do with throwing knives_ —but Bilbo couldn’t say a thing because he suddenly looked over to see that dark haired one—Kirby or Kalvin, or whatever—CLEANING HIS BOOTS ON …

            “That’s my mother’s glory box,” Bilbo stated waspishly. “Could you _please_ not do that?”

            The bald one—Dwally or Dwayne or whatnot—dragged the dark haired Dwarfling, _because he acted like a child_ , away, while the blond Dwarfling, _he acted like a child too_ , made to follow the others into the dining room and move Bilbo’s furniture around to suit themselves!  

            _How Rude! That table was perfectly placed, thank you very much and there is absolutely no reason to—_

A more knocking on the front door brought Bilbo out of his musings and pushed him well over the edge of the cliff that was called, ENOUGH!

            “NO!” Bilbo shouted out. “There is nobody home!” Okay, that was clearly a lie, what with the all the lights on and the commotion that Bilbo was sure could be heard all the way to The Green Dragon, and the windows wide-open, but really, Bilbo wished that there truly was no one home, especially himself! “If this is some clotterd’s idea of joke, all I can say is, it is in very poor taste!”

            Speaking of jokes, Bilbo was almost bowled over when not one, not two, not four, but eight— _count them, EIGHT_ —Dwarfs fell through his door into a heap on the entryway.

            _And obviously, they weren’t Hobbits.  Obviously.  But STILL!_   _Why can’t these Dwarfs just come in a hole like a normal person?!_

_No—wait—that doesn’t sound right—He didn’t mean ‘hole’, he meant—you know—a Hobbit’s hole—No, a smial! Yes, smial, that’s what he meant!_

_Whatever …_

And that damn wizard with the amused look on his face like some pooh-eating crow— _and no it’s not a merry gathering if you want to know the truth!_ Honestly, Bilbo had no idea at what point he had lost control of the situation. Maybe when he walked out his front door in the morning to enjoy the peace and quiet— _should have stayed inside, in bed, with the covers pulled up over my head, and NOT spoken to confounded wizards!_

And once all the Dwarfs were inside, it only got better! That is if your idea of better actually meant worse!

            Bilbo was just shocked as they RAIDED his pantry like a plague of locus! Food thrown everywhere— _what a waste!_ —talking and singing and laughing with their mouths open— _disgusting!_ —not to mention the mess all over the dining room— _that floor was just mopped this morning, thank you very much!_

            Before he knew it his dishes were being thrown about, his flatware used as instruments—he seriously doubted those knives would cut butter by the time those infuriating Dwarfs were done with them, and finally his dollies used as dishcloths and rags—oh by the Green Lady, Bilbo was sure he felt the first tinge of a headache forming! And only the Valar only knows what the kitchen looks—

            Bilbo just stopped in his tracks.

            The kitchen was perfect! The dishes were all washed and stacked by size, color and pattern! The flatware was all done and neatly separated so that it should be a breeze to put away, and the counters, stove, and sink were cleaned and polished nicely as well.

            Okay fine, they destroyed the bathroom and emptied his larder but at least they had the decency to clean-up after themselves.

            _All right—they weren’t_ terrible _guests then. BUT THEY STILL LEFT MUCH TO BE DESIRED!_

            And naturally, that was when there was another knock at the door!

            Well, pounding really, and wasn’t that just the rudest thing in the world—a gentle knock would have sufficed and Bilbo would have heard it, even over the laughter; Hobbits have very good hearing after all.

            Well, there was just nothing for it. Bilbo had better go _meet and greet_ the newest arrival, whoever it was.

            _Maybe it’s a Grumpy Orc—certainly wouldn’t be surprised at this rate!_

            Gandalf got there first and opened the door for Bilbo—as if Bilbo couldn’t open his own door! _The very idea! And, seriously, another Dwarf?! How many more of these pantry-pilfering, dish-tossing, knife-blunting, food-throwing—_

         _Oh. My. GREEN GODDESS!_

 _There should be a law against eyes that blue. It was criminal, not to mention distracting, for any person to have a chest that broad or shoulder that wide. It should be indecent—it almost was to be honest—to make a Hobbit’s heart beat that fast. There should be rules regarding—was it hot in here, or was just me_ , Bilbo wondered. _Because Valar knows that Dwarf was all kinds of HOT to begin with and_ — _really, isn’t anyone else hot?!_

            _And look at look at those hands_ —Bilbo needed a drink, something tall and cool— _like this Thorin person, tall, cool and oh so very tasty, and yummy, and—_

            “So,” said Thorin “This is the Hobbit.”

_Oh, by Eru—yes, I am! Especially if you keep using that voice, I will be a prancing Elf if you want me to be!_

“Tell me, Master Baggins—sword or axe—what’s your weapon of choice?”

            _Wait, what?!   Well, how rude!_ “I have some skill at conkers,” Bilbo said sardonically. “If you must know! But I fail to see why that’s relevant!”

            “Thought as much,” Thorin smirked.

            Bilbo wanted to just—just—take that smirk and wipe it right off Thorin’s arrogant, smug—totally hot—face.   _Maybe with a searing kiss or something like that._ “He looks more like a grocer,” Thorin mugged before walking off.

            Bilbo smiled; _oh well, that was such a nice compliment really and how did the Dwarf know—oh, wait. Oh. He didn’t mean it as a compliment._

            _Bastard._

            _Well, see if I put out for him!_

_…_

_Tonight, anyway._

 

 

 


	3. You Shouldn't Have to Ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's friendly (it's only polite), Thorin's unhappy (nothing new), they both need a bath (just one word - Trolls), and really, one shouldn't have to ask when they need something (not if Bilbo has anything to say about it).

 

* * *

 

_I really should have read that contract more closely! I swear I must have been insane to run after that idiotic, stubborn, grumpy, pig-headed …. utterly clueless … totally, majestically gorgeous king – all right fine! Yes, he is quite the hottie, but still! – TROLLS?!_

_Honestly!_

Bilbo was still fuming after settling in their rooms at Rivendell.

            _At least the Elves have descent food and SOAP!_

There hadn’t been time to truly change for dinner—not that the Dwarfs would anyway—but at least there was good food to eat. Personally, he liked green food and didn’t need any chips or meat to compliment the meal; it was just what he needed.  Although, right now what Bilbo really needed was a sewing kit!

            “Excuse me,” Bilbo said coming up behind the Elf who had greeted them on their arrival—Landon or Ludwig or something. “I wonder if I might ask a favor.”

            “Of course, Master Hobbit,” the dark haired Elf replied with a hand over his heart and a small bow.

            _Well, at least the Elves have manners!   Unlike_ some _I know!_

“I am in need,” Bilbo continued. “Of needle and thread. My clothes need mending and I would also like to know where I can wash them.”

            “We would be more than happy to take care of your needs while you are here,” stated the Elf with a gentle smile.

            “Oh, well,” Bilbo was so pleased! “That would be—”

            “Master Baggins,” the deep rumbling voice of the Dwarf-king sounded from behind Bilbo.

            Bilbo spun around. “Yes, _your highness_?” Bilbo put a slight edge to the last bit—he was still annoyed, sort of, about the trolls.

            “I wish to speak to you,” Thorin said, giving the Elf a raised eyebrow. “Alone.”

            The Elf bowed and left.  Bilbo had an odd feeling run down his spine. _Was it dread or desire? Strange how alike those two were._

“What did you want to—” Bilbo started.

            “Your majesty,” Thorin said with a slight lift of his nose.

            “I beg your pardon?”

            “You called me _‘your highness.’_   That is incorrect. A King is referred to as _‘your majesty’_ , a prince or princess is _‘your highness’_ , and a lord would be simply as _‘my lord.’_ ”

            “Oh.  Well ... thank you. My mistake. Please accept my apology.”

            Thorin shrugged. “No apology is needed; it’s a common error. However, I know you like things to be … proper. Therefore I would be remiss in not pointing out the proper address.”

            _Hmmmm._ Bilbo hated being corrected, but he couldn’t argue that he did prefer things to be done properly. Like how he really wanted _his majesty_ to take him right there and then—good and properly!

            “So ...” Bilbo said, hoping that Thorin would explain his reason to chatting.

            Thorin looked away in the direction that the Elf had taken before turning back to Bilbo with a darkened look. “If you need your clothes mended and washed, I would prefer you take them to Dori.  He was a weaver and can easily—”

            “Wait a minute,” Bilbo huffed out. “I can take care of it myself, thank you.”

            “Then why were you going to let the Elves—”

            “I wasn’t. He just offered to—”

            “I don’t want you to use their services. You should—”

            “I don’t recall anywhere in the contract that says you can order me—”

            “As leader, I have the right to order anyone in the company I—”

            “Ha! Guess again! As long as it doesn’t interfere with the quest, I don’t see why I can’t do as I—”

            “Stay away from the Elves!”

            “Now, you wait just a damn—”

            But Thorin was already stalking off in the opposite direction, leaving Bilbo to, once again, fume on his own.

            _Of all the nerve! How dare he order me about like some servant! Who does he think he is?_

_(He’s the king)_

_Well ... That’s not the point ... the point is …._

_(He’s in charge)_

_…_

_(He’s the leader of the company)_

_…_

_(He’s the one you want to plow you like a fertile field)_

_All right! That’s enough of that, thank you!_ Bilbo shook his head to quiet that annoyingly accurate little voice inside his head.

            When he returned to his room, he found a small sewing kit with a very nice needle and several small spools of thread in various colors. He sat down and repaired his coat first and then his weskit. He looked over at his shirt but it didn’t need mending, nor did his neckerchief. His Pants had a small tear near his right knee but it was minor. All in all, about thirty minutes later, his clothes were mended and he could now get them washed.

            He saw now that there was a note with the sewing kit and it turned out to be a little map showing him where the laundry room and the bathing rooms where—which luckily where right next to each other.

            Bilbo found clean, soft Elven shirts in his room's wardrobe and while they would be too big for him to wear during the day, they would make a wonderful nightshirt for a Hobbit. He grabbed one and headed out.

            He used the laundry first and there was everything he needed; soap, tubs and scrubbing boards. Within fifteen minutes all his clothes had soaked and he went to work on the stains. Whatever the soap was the Elves used, it was a miracle; every smudge and bit of dirt came right now and within minutes his clothes were hung up to dry. He had to upend one of the unused tubs to use as a step in order to reach the drying lines but there was no one round so Bilbo did it quickly.

            The bathing room had half a dozen large tubs—large even by men and Elf standards—along the walls. Each had a little curtain that could be pulled around to offer totally privacy. As Bilbo was relieved to find himself alone, he didn’t bother with the curtain.

            Frankly, he was pleased to be alone. It was not that he was embarrassed or shy, but he had not truly appreciated his solace until he went traipsing across the countryside with fourteen others! A little quiet, private time was …

            “Excuse me, Master Baggins,” Thorin said, causing Bilbo’s eyes to fly open. “I did not mean to intrude.  I will leave you in peace.

            “No,” Bilbo said. “It’s all right. There are plenty of tubs and you shouldn’t have to wait.”

            Thorin seemed to hesitate but finally nodded and moved to a tub in the far corner from Bilbo.

            Bilbo sat quietly soaking and made sure that he didn’t turn his head in Thorin’s direction, lest he stare and embarrass Thorin or worse, give himself away. Bilbo could hear, mixed with the sound of the quickly filling tub, the unbuckling of Thorin’s belt and clasps, the untying of the Dwarf’s bootstraps and the heavy, muffled sound of cloth falling to the ground. Finally the soft sound of sloshing water filled his ears and Bilbo could swear he heard Thorin give a slight moan as the Dwarf sunk into the hot bath.

            For several long minutes there was nothing said by either of them, until Thorin broke the silence.

            “Master Baggins,” Thorin said softly. “It was not my intention to anger you earlier.”

            Bilbo turned so that he could look over at Thorin and – _Oh. My. GODDESS, is he gorgeous all wet and hairy and all … that._

            “Is that your way of apologizing?” Bilbo asked gently.

            Thorin wore a slightly narrowed gaze. “Kings do not normally apologize,” the Dwarf said crisply. “However, if you wish to take it as such, I will not argue the point.”

            Bilbo just snorted out a laugh. _Stubborn, arrogant sod! He’s still gorgeous though._ “Very well,” Bilbo said with a slight smile. “A compromise; I will take it as an apology and we will keep it between us. Deal?”

            Thorin gave Bilbo a steady look but the barely hidden smirk said it all. “Deal.”

            Bilbo turned back around and for several more minutes there was silence once more. However, it was Bilbo’s turn to break it.

            “I just have to ask,” Bilbo started, turning back so that he could see Thorin. “Why do you hate them so much? The Elves, I mean.”

            Thorin suddenly tensed and sat up straighter; the thunderous look on his face, coupled with the heated glare, made Bilbo regret his question as he was positive Thorin was about to lay into him for his impertinence. But just a quickly, Thorin relaxed and his features softened.

            “They betrayed us,” Thorin answered.

            “Betrayed?!” Bilbo was shocked. This didn't add up to anything that he saw.

            “When the dragon came,” Thorin continued with a growl in his voice. “The Elves of Mirkwood looked down upon us and literally turned their backs on us.  They neither lifted a finger nor offered us shelter while all around I watched as Dwarfs, Dwarrodams and Dwarflings alike died, suffered or fled for their lives.”

            Bilbo was horrified. He wished he could pretend it wasn’t so, convince himself that Thorin was overstating it; but the pained look on Thorin’s face and the glistening of his eyes told Bilbo that it was probably quite the opposite, that living it had been even worse.

            “I’m so sorry.” It was all Bilbo could get out.

            “Hardly your fault, Master Baggins,” Thorin replied pointedly. “No need for you to be sorry.”

            “No, it wasn’t my fault,” Bilbo said a little annoyed. “But I simply meant it in that it is a fate I wouldn’t want to see visited on my worst enemy, let alone innocents.”

            Thorin deflated a bit more and sighed. “Now I must offer you a true apology,” Thorin said quietly. “I mistook your empathy for pity; I’m sorry, and your compassion is appreciated.”

            Bilbo nodded. “I just can’t believe that even Lord Elrond refused your request for help.”

            “He didn’t refuse it,” Thorin added. “Because it was never made.”

            Bilbo was confused. Clearly the Elvenking of Mirkwood betrayed Thorin and his people, but he thought all Elves had. “Was it possible he did not know of the dragon?”

            “I am sure he didn’t at the time of the attack,” Thorin answered. “But in the weeks and months afterwards, when we wandered helplessly searching for shelter and assistance, he must have been aware.”

            “True,” Bilbo pressed on gently. “But maybe if the Dwarfs had made a request—”

            “Master Baggins,” Thorin said with a slight edge. “You mentioned your worst enemy. If you saw that person, homeless, suffering, in need of shelter or at least a place of refuge, would you truly walk by and leave them in the dirt by the side of the road?”

            Bilbo was suddenly hit with the image of Lobelia, dirty, starving and begging, and himself walking past her, leaving her in the mud to fend for herself. His stomach turned a bit and he knew he couldn’t have done it—as much trouble as she had cause, as much vitriol they had thrown at each other; push come to shove, he could never had walked past. He couldn’t say the same of Lobelia but he couldn’t have done it.

            He didn’t need to answer Thorin’s question; Bilbo’s face gave his thoughts away.

            “There you have it,” Thorin said, reading Bilbo clearly. “Lord Elrond, as accommodating as he has been, did not lift a finger as we wandered the wilds, looking for scraps. He may not have been there when the dragon came, but he was well aware of the outcome and still he did nothing.”

            Silence descended again and for a long time there was no other sounds but Thorin’s cloth as he washed his body and Bilbo’s breath as he tried to calm himself.

            “Well,” Bilbo finally said. “I think I am done here.” He made to get out but he was stopped.

            “Wait,” Thorin said, as he pulled the curtain by his tub, effectively blocking his view. “Now you will have privacy as you exit.”

            Bilbo was touched. “Thank you.”

            There was no response from the king, but then his actions spoke for his words.

            As Bilbo lay in his bed that night, sleep did not find him easily as his thoughts turned to a certain Dwarf-king. Yes, Thorin was arrogant, stubborn, brooding, prideful, distrusting, judgmental, even hateful and dismissive, but he was never cruel. And although Bilbo had at first thought him cold-hearted, he now saw all those traits where employed as shields to protect a heart that was actually in pain, was hurt and still suffering; a heart that longed for home and peace for his people.

            As sleep finally seduced him, Bilbo’s last thoughts were a promise.

_I will not wait for Thorin to state his needs, nor wait for the Dwarf to ask; I will act when needed—when he needs me._

           

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Bilbo wasn’t sure if rushing a full-grown, filthy, _disgustingly stinky_ Orc, was what Thorin wanted but damnit, there truly was no time for Thorin to ask!

            _Oh yes—I could see it now. ‘Oh Bilbo, I’m lying her like a Warg’s chew-toy and, oh my, I seem to have misplaced my sword—could you come take care of this Orc WHO’S ABOUT TO CUT MY HEAD OFF!!_

Bilbo hadn’t really thought about at the time it happened. All Bilbo saw was Thorin literally chewed up and spat out and that _disgustingly stinky Orc_ with the razor like scimitar about remove Thorin’s head from the Dwarf’s shoulders; it was just too much take in. Bilbo had simply stood, unsheathed his sword and run like his pants were on fire.

            _How about we not talk about fire in our pants when the Thorin is around—by all that is sacred, how is it POSSIBLE that that Dwarf can look sexy when he is covered in Goblin goop and dirt?!_

_So unfair and totally unnerving!_

Bilbo didn’t even care about the flying eagles—he only cared about one thing, one person, one Dwarf.

            The Dwarf that wasn’t moving at all.

Right now, all Bilbo wanted was for Thorin to stand up. _Please. Please, Yavanna. Please don’t let him be dead. I beg you, please not that. I didn’t get a chance to tell him—Oh thank the maker, he’s getting up!_

“You!” Thorin spat out when he was finally standing on his own two feet and glared at Bilbo. “What were you doing! You nearly got yourself killed!” Thorin started to stalk towards Bilbo who could only watch the Dwarf close in on him. “Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?” Bilbo felt hurt, embarrassed, small and quite useless—but there was no time for tears as Thorin surged forward and pulled the Hobbit into a tight embrace. “I have never been so wrong in all my life.”

            _What—What just happened?_

Bilbo’s shock ran through him but it only took a few moments to recover and he wrapped his arms around the Dwarf he now knew, he loved so dearly. _Even if he could be an arrogant, thoughtless prick at times._

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Thorin said as he pulled back, but still held Bilbo, gently, by both arms.

            “No,” Bilbo said honestly. “I would have doubted me too. I’m not a hero, or a warrior ... or even a burglar.” Thorin smiled at that. “I didn’t want you to have to ask or request—I simply did what you needed, I wanted to help.”

            Thorin looked stunned for a moment and then realization dawn across his bruised and bloodied face. Once again, Thorin surged forward and pulled Bilbo to him and this time, their lips met and Bilbo was treated to a searing kiss that wiped all thought from his mind.

            There was no sound from the other Dwarf’s—they were too shocked. Well, at least the ones that hadn’t placed any bets on their king and burglar.

            By the time Thorin pulled back this time, it was Bilbo who looked stunned.

            And Thorin answered Bilbo’s unstated question. “I have needed that too for a long time.  I hope you didn’t mind my not asking.”

            “Yes, well,” Bilbo said, waiting for sense to come back to him. “I think we both just got what we needed.”

            _Oh yeah, someone is SO getting what they need very soon!_

 

 

 


	4. One Fine Day - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dain's a pain (even in a dream), Primula is evil (she is really), Drogo has doubts (it's his job), and Bilbo mus decided what to give up (Lobelia has an idea for him)

* * *

 

            _“All you need to know Bilbo Baggins is that Thorin, Son of Thrain, and Fili and Kili, sons of Dis, are dead.”_

_“No, it can’t be true!”_

_“You dare to accuse me, Dain, King Under the Mountain, of lying?!”_

_“Please, you must let me see them!”_

_“I must let you do nothing, thief!”_

_“Need I remind you, Dain, that Thorin took back the words he spoke at the gate?”_

_“I do not need you or any Wizard, Gandalf, to remind me of anything! But I tell you I heard myself that Thorin wished to part in friendship, so only the words of hatred are revoked—not the decree of banishment, nor the judgment of theft.”_

_“This is outrageous! Bilbo Baggins actions saved you all!”_

_“That is why the Halfling will not be executed for theft, but the banishment stands! You will take him from Erebor by mornings light!”_

_“Please, your majesty, I beg you to let me see Thorin one last time.”_

_“The dead do not need your presence, burglar!”_

_“King Dain! Please! I beg you! Please!”_

_“Your pleas are meaningless in the end, thief. Go, before I change my mind!”_

_“Please, your majesty!”_

_“Please!”_

_“PLEASE!”_

            Bilbo shot up out of bed, his screamed plea still on his lips. It took him several seconds, almost a full minute to realize that his pleas would not be heard—not here in Bag End.

            The pounding sound of running filled his ear before the next second the door to his room burst open and two beloved Hobbits stood there.

            “Are you all right?” Primula asked as she rushed to Bilbo’s side.

            “We heard your screaming,” Drogo added as he rushed over with Prim.

            “I’m fine,” Bilbo replied, feeling very foolish and guilty for waking his cousins. “It was just a dream.”

            “Not just a dream,” Drogo said quietly.

            “It was _that_ dream,” Prim injected.

            “Yes, well,” Bilbo said, now feeling embarrassingly exposed. “It’s over now.”

            Of course he had told Primula and Drogo all that happened on his adventure, all that happened afterwards and all that had happened with Thorin. Neither of them judged him, only loved him, and were more concerned for him than anything else for him. But it still felt wrong to bother them so.

            So wrong in fact, he was feeling sick. Very sick. Okay, nauseatingly sick and, _OH MY GODDESS, I have better make a run for it!_

            Bilbo leapt from his bed and made it to the bath chamber just in time to revisit his bedtime snack. _I must say, it tasted better going in than coming out._ Bilbo was hit with another couple of waves of nausea, a few dry heaves but thankfully, nothing else.

            “Bilbo?” Prim called as she knocked on the chamber door. “Are you all right?”

            “Oh yes,” Bilbo said raspy voice as he sat on the cool tile floor, his head resting on the side of the cold metal bucket. “I’m perfectly fine.” _Yes, my head is spinning like Bombur in a barrel and my stomach is doing more flips and twists than Elves in trees, but yes, I’m perfectly fine._ “I’ll be out in a minute,” Bilbo got out as he slowly slid down to lay on the floor. _Oh thank the Green Lady, that tile is so nice and cool._

When he finally got out of the bath chamber and made his way to the kitchen, he was met by his cousins.

            “Feeling better?” Prim asked with a look to her husband that Bilbo totally missed.

            “I’m fine really,” Bilbo said, avoiding looking at either of them.

            “I’ll just see about—something,” Drogo said and quickly left. Bilbo barely registered the front door closing.

            The thud of a mug on the table jolted Bilbo out of his thoughts and he found a hot mug of tea in front of him and his cousin Prim sitting next to him.

            _Oh my, I’ve seen that look before._

            “When were you going to tell us?” Prim asked quietly.

            “I’ve no idea what you are talking about,” Bilbo said. _I do, but I refused to be forced to say it._

Prim just nodded and moved off to the pantry. When she came back, Bilbo’s eyes widened in horror! _She wouldn’t! Would she? No. No, she wouldn’t._

“Would you care for some of the pickled herring this morning?”

            _oh, she would! That sneaky little—_

            “I bet it’s good and fishy.”

            _Oh, by the Green Lady, please no—_

            “So salty and fishy smelling—I wonder how fishy it tastes? _"_

_You are evil Primula Baggins! Evil._

            Bilbo was really working to keep the contents of his stomach down, but just the idea of opening the jar of pickled herring was nauseating, let alone smelling it or eating it.

            _Oh, Goddess, I’m not going to make it._

            “Let’s just open the jar and see,” Prim said sweetly.

            Bilbo watched in horror, as slowly Prim reached for the lid of the jar and made to turn it, open it and _RELEASE THAT SMELL RIGHT IN MY FACE!_

            “Okay! Okay!   You win!” Bilbo yelled out and made to stop Prim’s hand.

            With a grin of satisfaction— _an evil one at that!—_ Prim sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Waiting.

            Sneaky little witch.

            Bilbo was defeated and he slumped forward, banging his forehead on the table.

            “I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how.”

            “Well, you were foolish to think I wouldn’t notice.”

            “I’m sorry,” Bilbo whispered. It really was foolish of him to think he would be able to keep it a secret at all.

            “You don’t need to be,” Prim said softly and moved to sit next to Bilbo and put an arm around his shoulders. “Can I assume Thorin is the other father?”

            _What?! How many Dwarfs does she think I shagged while away?!_

            “Of course, Thorin is the other father!”

            “You know the old saying,” Prim said sagely. “What happens in Bree, stays in Bree.”

            “Well, it didn’t happen in Bree,” Bilbo snarked. “It happened in Erebor and apparently what happens there, follows you home.”

            “I guess the big question is,” Prim stated getting a pinched, contemplative look on her face, “is how do we hide the fact.”

            “I’m still thin from the journey,” Bilbo said. _Well, not ‘thin’ more toned. Yes, I’m tone. (No you’re knocked up.) Quiet you._ “When I do start, most will just think I’m gaining weight back.”

            “That will be fine for a while but not the entire pregnancy,” Prim said with a little laugh. “And, it took you ten weeks to return home, you’ve been back six weeks—that’s four months if you are paying attention—and I imagine you didn’t have sex the night before the battle, so, when was the last time you and he—”

            _Okay, let’s stop right there, missy!_ Bilbo held up his hand to stop his cousin. _I’m so not getting into details about that, thank you very much! There is just no way—_

            “Five months,” Bilbo said briskly. “I am almost five months along.”

            “You will start showing with four weeks.”

            “I know.”

            “We need to think of something.”

_You mean like going back in time and letting Thorin live and we get to stay together and live happily ever after and be happy and—and--_

_Can he just live? Please?_

_(No.)_

           

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            “This isn’t going to work,” Drogo said shaking his head.

            “It was Prim’s idea,” Bilbo said.

            “Is still isn’t going to work,” Drogo countered.

            “If we all stick to the plan—”

            “It definitely isn’t going to work.”

            “This is so going to work!” Prim said coming into the parlour. She turned around and around posing in different positions. “Well, what do you think?”

            Bilbo could see that little bump under her dress. “It looks great.”

            Drogo tilted his head from side to side. “This isn’t going to work.”

            “Oh stop!” Prim said with dismissive wave her hand.

            Prim’s plan as thus. Bilbo would stay inside for the duration of his pregnancy—only venturing into the back garden but no further. Prim would make pillows, in increasing sizes with long ribbons on the ends so that she could tie them around her waist. Then, when she put her dress on, it would look she was pregnant. She would do all the shopping and what not outside so that everyone could see her and she could loudly tell everyone that she was expecting. Then, after Bilbo had the baby, Prim and Drogo will pass the baby off as theirs. Bilbo had already invited them to live with him as soon as he returned so no one was suspicious that Prim and Drogo was staying at Bag End.

            “Now,” Prim said. “Bilbo is five months along—that means he still have six more months until the baby. However, the last two months the baby won’t grow that much bigger so I really only need to make pillows for four months—two for each month. This should be easy!”

            “I don’t know, Prim,” Bilbo had massive doubts. _No Hobbit is that stupid._

            “This isn’t going to work,” Drogo was nothing but doubt.

            “Oh, will you two relax!” Prim said with a dismissive wave of her hand and a roll of her eyes. “What could go wrong?!”

            Wrong happened one fine day about two months later.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Prim woke up Late, one day.  She was so frazzled about getting to the Sterday Market. She grabbed her shawl and her satchel and ran. It was just as she was coming down the Bag Shot Row when she realized— _SHE FORGOT THE PILLOW!_

She looked around, thinking she could be back to Bag End quick. However, to her horror, Lobelia was just coming up the lane towards her! Prim quickly placed her satchel in front of her and dove behind the Gamgee’s hedges.

            “Primula Baggins!” Lobelia shouted out. “I have a bone to pick with you!”

            Primula quickly removed her shawl, rolled it into a ball and shoved it under her dress and up to her middle. She was just straightening her dress when Lobelia walked up.

            “What are you doing in those hedge groves?!” Lobelia demanded.

            “Ah, me?” Primula asked trying to sound casual and failing.

            “Of course you!” Lobelia said with her hands on her hips. “Come out of there at once!”

            Primula did, keeping both hands and her satchel in front of her—not only for extra camouflage but to keep the shawl from falling out.

            “I’m so sorry, Lobelia,” Prim said with a dry laugh. “I was feeling ill and thought it best I—uhm—I—uhm—get out of the lane before anything untoward happened.” Prim hoped Lobelia bought it.

            Sadly no.

            “You are supposedly seven months along, Primula—you shouldn’t be having morning sick still. Unless there is something wrong?”

            “Wrong?” Prim said with in a high pitch. “What could be wrong?!” Prim laughed, totally aware that it was as fake as Lobelia’s good will. “I just didn’t have time for breakfast this morning.”

            Lobelia looked scandalized. “No proper Hobbit would ever leave the house before breakfast!”

            “Yes, well. You know how it is when one’s pregnant!” More fake laughter, this time with a gesture to indicate that Prim was scatterbrained. “But you are so right! I should rush back right now and eat. So if you will excuse me.” Prim turned and made for Bag End but she didn’t get far.

            “No so fast,” Lobelia said advancing forward. “I still have a bone to pick with you.”

            “I really must get going,” Prim said slowly walking backwards and away from Lobelia. “Why not stop by later and we can have a spat—I MEAN A CHAT! Yes, we chat! Well, got to run!” Primula took off for Bag End as if her scones were burning.

            She ran right through Bag End and out to the back garden where she found Bilbo and Drogo enjoying their breakfast. Bilbo was quite round now, but then she and he had expected it—the child was half Dwarf after all.

            “You won’t believe it!” Primula said coming up to them.

            “Believe, what?” Bilbo asked and then noticed her flat belly. “Where is your pillow? I thought you ran out to the market.”

            “I did,” Prim said. “And I forgot the pillow!”

            Bilbo and Drogo sat up straight in shock.

            “Oh my word!” Bilbo said. “Did anyone see you?”

            “Oh, yes,” Prim said with a sardonic laugh. “And not just anyone—it was Lobelia!”

            Bilbo almost had the baby right then and there! _Lobelia! Of all Hobbits—might as well walk down to the market naked—won’t be any worse if Lobelia gets a hold of the truth._

            “Did she notice you weren’t pregnant?” Bilbo asked.

            “She certainly did,” came a nasty voice form behind them. Then all turned and saw Lobelia standing crossed armed at the back garden gate.

            “You, bitch!” Prim snarled out.

            “Flattery will get you no where, Primula Baggins,” Lobelia said with an oily smile. “I must say, you all had me doubting myself for a bit, but in the end I knew your own idiocy would trip you up.”

            “What do you want?” Drogo demanded.

            “For starters,” Lobelia spat out. “You can keep your trap shut, Drogo.” Lobelia opened the gate and came in to stare down at Bilbo. “Quite the adventurer aren’t you, Bilbo. Tell me, which one of the Dwarfs is the father? Or did you sample them all and are now unsure?”

            “Go away, Lobelia,” Bilbo said. “I don’t have time for you.” _Actually I do have time but I just can’t be bothered._

“Is that what you want?” Lobelia asked dangerously. “For me to go away? I guess I could find someone to _gossip_ with.”

            “Look,” Bilbo said, struggling to get up. “We both know I don’t want this to get around, and if you _really_ wanted to gossip about it you would already be gone. So you must want something.”

            “Oh, yes,” Lobelia confirmed. “I want something alright.”

            _Fine, just let her have all the silverware, I don’t care,_ Bilbo thought. “Just go take the silver and be done with it then.”

            "I have enough of your silver already,” Lobelia said with a smile that was quite cold. “No, I want something much more valuable.”

            “What?” Bilbo asked, afraid of the answer.

            “Bag End,” Lobelia stated.

 

 

 


	5. One Fine Day - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lobelia's conniving (she's good at it too), Primula is enraged (boy does she have a temper), and Bilbo makes his choice (no choice really)

* * *

            _Hummm, let’s take stock of the situation, shall we?_ Bilbo mused to himself. _I am a Baggins and a Took—the two most extreme examples of Hobbit families imaginable; I had a perfectly normal, respectable, but VERY boring life until some hair-brain, half-baked, funky-weed smoking Wizard pops by with a baker’s dozen worth of Dwarfs, I run after them because I fell for their majestically-brooding, grumpy-arse, sour-faced, knuckle-headed, too-sexy-to-be-believed king (who did have one fine arse, let me tell you)._

_I battle Trolls, Orcs, Spiders (ewww), and a FUCKING GOLD-LOVING, KINGDOM-STEALING, FIRE-BREATHING, NASSISTIC DRAGON, battled armies of Wargs and MORE Orcs, end up pregnant by the afore mentioned Fine-Arsed Dwarf King, returned home where my favorite cousin pretends to be pregnant to save my reputation and life, but then to top it all off, my least favorite cousin wants my home in payment for her silence._

_YEAH ........... That about sums up my life._

_Oh and that Dwarf King, the one that had the eyes that should be illegal, and the voice that made me shiver, the one that was brave and strong, but who kissed me so tenderly and with so much love that no one could ever compare …. I lost him. I lost the love of my life. In fact, without him, can I even call this living?_

At that moment, the baby gave a little kick and Bilbo reminded himself, that he was indeed living a good life and a small part of Thorin lived on with him. And the rest of the world continued on as well while he had sat there musing to himself.

            Lobelia’s last words echoed in his ears. _“Oh I have enough of your silver already … No, I want something much more valuable … Bag End”_

            “WHAT?!” Primula shouted. “You’re insane!”

            “Insanity is Bilbo’s department,” Lobelia said. “I’m just a nasty gossip and a bitch. Remember?”

            “You’ve never done a thing to deserve Bag End,” Drogo said.

            “And you have?” Lobelia countered.

            “We love and support Bilbo,” Prim stated and crossed her arms in emphasis.

            “What does that crap matter?” Lobelia sneered. “My husband is Bilbo’s closest cousin by blood; Bag End should go to him. Now, with Bilbo’s little secret, we have the upper-hand.”

            “Only a nasty piece of work would blackmail Bilbo out of his home!” Drogo announced.

            “Sticks and stones, can break bones,” Lobelia sing-songed. “But being nasty gets me shit. Besides, I wanted to give Prim a piece of my mind earlier and force the two of you out, but blackmail is so much easier.”

            “You, troll-fucking, bitch!” Primula charged forward while at the same time Lobelia advanced as well; Drogo jumped between them with his arms outstretched, trying with all he had to keep the two women from tearing the other apart.

            “ENOUGH!” Bilbo shouted and everything quieted.

            The truth be told, _and It really does have to be told now doesn’t it_ , Lobelia had a point. If Bilbo had wanted to declare and keep the child for him, he would have been run out of town—or worse. There was little for it, but to buy her silence.

            “I have had enough,” Bilbo continued on, “of all the snarking and snipping.” He turned to Lobelia. “Say your piece, plainly and distinctly, and then go; the baby is sitting on my bladder and I have to pee, not to mention I’m starving and need to eat—I’d rather not have to do both of those things at the same time.”

            “Very well,” Lobelia said with one last sneer at the others. “Prim can keep up her little charade and I will keep my trap shut. When the baby is born, though, Prim and Drogo will adopt the baby, and truly pass it off as their own—”

            “I _won’t_ steal Bilbo’s baby!” Prim said disgusted.

            “We were going to tell everyone it was yours anyway,” Bilbo said quietly.

            “Yes,” Drogo agreed. “But we weren’t going to adopt your baby and take it! We were all going to live here so it would be easier!”

            “Easier, my fat arse!” Lobelia said.

            “I always heard your arse was easy,” Primula snarked but the comment was ignored by the other woman.

            “You will adopt this baby,” Lobelia said. “That will remove him from Bilbo’s direct line and move him to your— _more remote_ connection, and once again, Ortho and I will be next to inherit Bag End.”

            “Fine,” Bilbo thought the adoption was a minor thing.

            “Not so fast, cousin-dear,” Lobelia said, seeing through Bilbo. “Once they adopt him, they are to move out and live outside of Hobbiton.”

            Bilbo instinctively wrapped his arms around his belly in protection. The idea that _his_ baby, _Thorin’s_ baby, _their baby_ , would be gone and out of his life completely was horrifying; loosing Thorin had been heartbreaking enough, but to lose their child would shatter his soul.

            “You would not only force us to adopt the baby,” Primula said shocked, “but have us take the baby away from Bilbo completely?!”

            “You ask like it isn’t obvious,” Lobelia looked disappointed that Prim didn’t get it.

            “That could destroy Bilbo,” Drogo stated disgusted. “You’d sent him to an early grave!”

            “That would be a plus,” Lobelia said with a smile that reminded Bilbo of Smaug, contemplating Thorin’s slide into madness with the procurement of the Arkenstone.

            _Those two would have gotten along famously._

But Bilbo knew that there was nothing for it. If he went against Lobelia, she would spread word far and wide. Even his Took relatives, as adventurous and accepting as they were, would probably turn their back on him. He and the baby would be driven out, forced to flee, out into the world were there was little protection for a lone Hobbit adult, let alone one with a tiny baby. Even if he made for Rivendell, the chances of his surviving the journey was so low it was laughable, but the baby would never make it at all.

            The wasn’t anything for it in the end.

            “Very well, Lobelia,” Bilbo sighed in resignation. “You win. Prim and Drogo will take the baby and you may have Bag End.”

            _Oh, Thorin—I’m failing you—But I won’t risk our baby—If I die, and by chance we meet again, I hope you can forgive me._

_I hope I can forgive myself._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few that have asked me - "WTF?? Why can't Bilbo just keep the baby and screw the Hobbits?!" Well, there is a reason, not a good one, not a nice one, but there is a reason. However, the explanation would be wrong here because, well, the Hobbits in this scene know why and therefore don't need to voice it.
> 
> HOWEVER, there is a scene coming that will explain it all - please bear with me.


	6. Thilbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think i may have to admit defeat -- apparently i really can't write a story without angst ...... sorry.

* * *

           

            “If I get any bigger,” Bilbo said, lifting his swollen belly with both hands, “They’re going to give me my own post code!”

            Primula laughed at that. “You’re not _that_ big!”

            “Not that _big_?” Bilbo mugged. “I almost got stuck in the back of the panty! I had to back out because I couldn’t turn around; it was a bit of tight fit!”

            “Isn’t that what got you into this situation?” Drogo smirked. “A _‘tight fit?’_ ”

            _Oh no he didn’t!  He so did NOT just go there!_

           “One more snarky comment like that,” Bilbo glared at Drogo and pointed a scone at him. “And I will shove a biscuit so far up your _arse_ you’ll be able to pull it out of your mouth!”

            Drogo scrunched up his face at that. “That is the most disgusting mental image I have ever had.”

            “Wait until it actually happens,” Bilbo smiled viciously. “Then we’ll see how disgusting it _really_ is!”

            “Okay, you two,” Primula said with a little giggle. “No more fighting.”

            “Fighting?” Bilbo said while Drogo looked shocked. “Who’s fighting?”

            “Yeah,” Drogo looked like he just noticed his wife was insane. “We’re not fighting, we’re just—” Drogo looked at Bilbo for help.

            “Right,” Bilbo said with a nod. “We’re—”

_Well, shit – what are we doing? ‘We’re not fighting, we’re …. Discussing?”  That won’t go over. ‘We’re …. Exchanging ideas?’ No, that’s just stupid. ‘We’re …. Honing … our’ … what are we honing? … SNARKING SKILLS! YES!   ‘We’re not fighting; we’re honing our snarking skills!’_

            “We’re not fighting, we’re—” Bilbo started.

            But Primula held up a hand to stop Bilbo. “If it took you that long to come up with a come-back, don’t think it’ll fly with me.”

            “Spoil sport,” Drogo grumbled but it earned him an affectionate ear-flick and a rolled pair of eyes from his wife.

            They all turned back to their elevensies and ate. Bilbo commented about how much he loved the eggs—ever since the quest, he had come to prefer hard-boiled—Drogo liked the toast, which was thick and buttery. Primula thanked them both for the compliments although she wondered out loud how Bilbo could eat an egg totally hard-boiled.

            The conversation was casual and light, which is why it was such a shock when Drogo spoke up.

            “So, Bilbo,” Drogo said, taking yet another slice of buttery toast. “Have you thought of any names for the baby?”

            _Well, if that isn’t an appetite killer right there!_

Prim looked at Drogo, who looked at Bilbo, who in turn looked at Prim.  Then they all turned and it was Bilbo looking at Drogo, who looked at Prim, who now looked at Bilbo, AND it went around and around like that for a couple more times until Bilbo looked down at his belly.

            “Let’s not worry about it now,” Prim said with a sharp glaze at her husband as she made to gather the dishes and clean-up. “We have plenty of time.”

            “Less than a month,” Drogo pointed out which earned him a _not_ so affectionate ear-flick from his wife.

            “Well,” Prim said coming back to the table. “Bilbo has to worry about other—”

            “I have thought about it, actually,” Bilbo said, bringing everything else to a halt. He rubbed his hands over his swollen belly. “I figured if it was a girl, I would name her after Mum.”

            “Aunt Belladonna would’ve loved that,” Prim said gently. Drogo and Bilbo both nodded.

            “But, what if it’s a boy?” Drogo asked.

            “If I could’ve kept him,” Bilbo said softly, “I want to name him Thorin. But it can’t be now.”

            “Sure it can!” Drogo protested.

            “Absolutely!” Prim agreed.

            But Bilbo shook his head. “If it were possible to keep the baby, even if no one figured out Thorin was the other father, naming him Thorin would be okay, because I could always say that he was named after my best friend—there is no greater honor to Hobbits than to name a child after your best friend.” They all knew that, of course. “But you know I can't keep him and when you two adopt him, you can't name him Thorin--you two never knew Thorin, never even met him, and you certain didn’t go off on the quest, so it would be too suspicious to give him a Dwarven name when you don’t even know a single Dwarf.”

            “How about a combination name?!” Drogo offered brightly. “Like … _‘Thilbo’_ , or _‘Bilorin?’_ ”

            Bilbo and Primula just stared at Drogo with flat, blank expressions. Drogo had no idea how close he was to having Bilbo smack him upside the head.

            “Yeah,” Bilbo said with cocked eyebrow. “Those two suggestions just got you knocked out of the baby-naming all together.” Primula nodded in totally agreement.

            “We could name him ‘Bilbo?’” Prim offered gently. “You’re our dearest cousin, after all.”

            “You are sweet, Prim,” Bilbo smiled but then shook his head. “But no. If the baby can’t be named after Thorin, then it most certainly won’t get my name.”

            “AGH!” Primula growled out. “This whole business is intolerable! You shouldn’t have to—”

            “PRIM!” Bilbo shouted. “There is little choice here.”

            “Fuck that!” Drogo swore. “I say to hell with everyone and just keep it and tell them all to go fuck themselves!”

            Bilbo snickered. _Such dreamers._ “We have been through this already.”

            “But you faced a dragon!” Drogo stated, smacking his hand on the table. “You fought Orcs and giant Spiders! You were in the middle of a great battle and still came out alive! You can do anything!”

            “Except for one thing,” Bilbo said, rubbing his belly again. “I won’t risk the life of our baby.” That brought them all to a quiet standstill. “This is all that is left of Thorin in this world—well, our baby and a cold, lifeless tomb—so I won’t do anything to risk Thorn’s blood from continuing on because, _damnit_ , Thorin should have been king—he should have gone on to great things—he should have—he should—”

            “He should have lived,” Primula added when Bilbo couldn’t finish on his own, “to share in your love and joy.” Bilbo just nodded.

            No one spoke and the smial was filled with only the birdsong that drifted in through the open windows.

            “So,” Bilbo said, finally in control of his faculties once again. “No more talk of what could be. The decision is made and this is the way it will be.” Bilbo stood up and made to leave quickly.

            “Bilbo!” Primula called out concerned. “Where are you going?”

            Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I’m going to the little _‘pregnant-Hobbit’s’_ room, because the baby has been sitting on my bladder too long and I have _got_ to pee!” With that he fled down the corridor.

            And if he cried silently, alone in the bath chamber, well, that was his business.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i SWEAR - Bilbo's decision WILL make sense or at least, the reason will be there ....


	7. Any Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's alone (not totally), Verve is great (she rocks), Primula is mad (don't get her started), and some one new arrives at the smial (couldn't he have come in a less painful way?!)

* * *

 

            Of course, as with every secret, it wasn’t long before everyone knew.

            Well, not everyone. Lobelia kept her word, sort of—even congratulating Primula in the market, loudly so others could hear, from time to time on the imminent arrival of “her baby.” But, be that as it may, Lobelia wasted very little time in telling all the Baggins family members she could round up, all about the baby and the true parentage. Needless to say, Bilbo soon found himself isolated from the other family members.

            Primula tried to argue with Lobelia that she had gossiped and therefore the deal was off! However, Lobelia said that telling the family was not gossiping, because family should all know the truth. Besides, she felt very confident that word wouldn’t go beyond the family because everyone, _just everyone,_ was embarrassed, disgusted or some level of both at the same time; no one would talk.

            Sadly, Bilbo had to agree. But the sharing of the secret did seem to have isolated him from the family even more—no one came to see him at all.

            The only Baggins to come over was Vervain Bolger-Baggins. Verve, as she was called by friends, was not only one of the best mid-wives in all The Shire, but she was one of the most accepting. Add to that, the fact that she had a very sharp, fierce intelligence that brooked no questions. She did not suffer fools.

            This became quite clear to Bilbo.

            “You should have heard her,” Verve said with an eye-roll. “I swear, Lobelia should have been on the stage with all her dramatics.”

            Bilbo nodded and frankly, he _could_ just see Lobelia doing it.

            “She waved her hands,” Verve continued as she felt, touched, pressed and poked on Bilbo’s belly, “flailed about, bulged her eyes—hell, I think she even cried a few fake tears—all over the _‘horror’,_ and _‘humiliation’_ , that _‘we Baggins are having to suffer’_ at the _‘depraved debauchery’_ of the whole _‘Bilbo’s perverted situation.’_ Honestly, she should have gone into the circus.”

            Bilbo had a sudden image of Lobelia as a trapeze artist and her partner ‘forgetting’ to catch her.

            “I guess that’s why,” Bilbo said, “You’re the only one to come see me.”

            Verve stopped and looked at him. “I’m here because you need me, cousin.”

            _And only then, because you are consummate professional,_ Bilbo thought. “Well, I thank you for coming.” _I’m sure if you had your druthers, you wouldn’t be within a mile of Bag End right now._

            “You know, Bilbo,” Verve said, having resumed her examination. “All the others, think—”

            “Verve, please,” Bilbo asked tiredly. He didn’t want to be told how disappointed people where, or disgusted, or anger with him. “Let’s not talk about it.” When Verve only looked at him, Bilbo pressed on. “How is the baby? Everything alright?”

            “ _Your_ baby,” Verve said firmly, “is very healthy. You should have an easy birth.”

            “Really?!” Bilbo was shocked, truly. “Verve, I bigger than a sow! Are you even sure I’m only having one?! How can you say _‘easy?’_ ”

            “Easy,” Verve said with a smirk and light poke to Bilbo’s belly. “This is almost all water. That baby is actually tiny compared to all this.”

            “All water?” Bilbo was worried. “And what do you mean tiny? You said it was healthy?!”

            “Relax, _‘Nervous_ _Nan_ _,’_ ” Verve said, snarking. “The baby is the perfect size for a Hobbit. The water sometimes can be great—even in a normal Hobbit pregnancy—but this isn’t a normal Hobbit pregnancy, is it?”

            Bilbo shouldn’t have been surprised. “What do you mean?” Bilbo asked.

            “Well,” Verve said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “The other father isn’t a Hobbit, is he?”

            Bilbo wasn’t sure what to answer, so he said nothing.

            “If the other father was a Hobbit,” Verve continued, “even in this situation, I can’t believe they wouldn’t be here. Yet you are alone. Add to that, that we have all heard of your adventure, so it’s pretty damn easy to guess that it was it probably someone from one of the other races—barring an Orc, of course.

            “Now, taking into consideration that, Elves—as lovely as they are, and Men—as beastly as they are, are both rather … _equine in scale_ … compared to a Hobbit’s … _access point_ … and seeing as you traveled with Dwarfs—them being a much more … _compatible fit_ … shall we say … my intelligent guess is that one of them is the baby’s other father.”

            Bilbo was mortified; not because of Verve knowing he had … _coupled_ … with a Dwarf, but because of Verve’s speech. Although he wasn’t sure whether it was because of the innuendos concern the size of the races …. _reproductive capacity_ , or because of the correctness of Verve’s assessments of the aforementioned capacities. He hadn’t told anyone other than Prim and Drogo who the actual father way, but that didn’t mean Lobelia and people like Verve couldn’t figure it out.

            Bilbo only nodded in response, not meeting Verve’s eyes.

            “Well, then,” Verve said, sounding pleased with her reasoning of deduction. “Since I have never seen a Dwarf/Hobbit pairing before, let alone birth a child of such a union, all this extra water could be normal. It could be that you were having twins but the second one never developed. Or it could just be a damned coincidence. Whatever the reason, there is no need to worry.”

            Bilbo told himself not to worry; he was giving their baby up, he had no right. He was a terrible person and he hoped that their child would someday forgive him—if they ever found out the truth.

            He prayed Thorin would forgive him.

            Bilbo prayed every night to Yavanna and Mahal, begging them to forgive him and to plead his case to Thorin. But his prayers went unanswered as far as he knew—Yavanna herself knew, Bilbo couldn’t forgive himself.

            But he would not see harm come to their child. He would die rather than let someone hurt the baby—or worse.

            Prim came stalking into the bedroom, still wearing her pregnancy pillow that she had put on before going to the market.

            “I swear,” Primula groused out, with her hands on her hips. “One of these days, I’m really going to let Lobelia have it!”

            “What happened?” Bilbo asked.

            “I ran into her at the market,” Primula said, pulling a note out of her pocket. “She once again loudly congratulated me for all to hear and was patting my pillow and all that stuff. Then she handed me a basket of scones, which she made a huge scene about, as she announced _‘she wanted me to know how much she cared.’_ But, _this_ was in the basket!” On that last bit, she waved the note at Bilbo who took it to read.

            “ _‘The baby’s almost here—so start packing,’_ ” Bilbo read out.

            “So much for how much she cares!” Prim said with a huff.

            “What does that mean?” Verve asked.

            “Nothing,” Bilbo said quickly. “Nevermind.”

            Verve looked like she would much rather _not_ ‘nevermind’ but she didn’t push it either.

            “How is everything?” Prim asked, clearly in an attempt to draw Verve’s attention away from Lobelia’s note.

            “Oh, fine,” Verve said, not in the least bit distracted. “It should be any day now. You have taken very good care of Bilbo as far as I can see.”

            Primula blushed, But Bilbo smiled at her—she really had taken very good care of him.

            Bilbo wanted to get up and out of the bed. “Now,” Bilbo said, moving to the side of the bed, “when you say ‘any day’, do you mean—”

            There really was no way for him to finish as pain like red hot dragon flames shot through him, throwing him back down on the bed and a huge tsunami of water broke over the pristine quilt; _well, formerly pristine quilt now._

            Primula just stood there gaped mouthed while Verve looked down at the bed, up to Bilbo, back down to the bed and finally back up to Prim, before saying, “Guess I should have said any _time_.”

            It all happened so quick from that point. Bilbo had assumed that it would be a long and horrible experience. Of course he thought that _before,_ the labor, because at the time of labor he couldn’t think of anything other than the pain and pushing and _‘Don’t you dare tell me to push one more time or I swear I’ll shove a watermelon up your arse and force you to push it out all on your own!’_ Prim had been shocked at the comment but Verve just laughed and said it was very normal.

            As it turned out though, while Hobbit lasses are built for this kind of thing, Hobbit lad capable of bearing child still had a quicker labor—despite their child-bearing ability, it was still foreign for them and so the body wanted to expel the intruder out lickity-split!

            So, two hours, a few curses, several pushes and near countless rung hands on Drogo’s part, later, Bilbo was done and there was a tiny fauntling in his arms with his pale skin, Thorin’s shock of black hair and his blue eyes— _“Those change color you know”, “I know no such thing, and no they won’t change!”_ —cooing up a storm.

            The question of the name was settled with barely a thought.

            “Hello, Frodo, my boy,” Bilbo said with a smile, just before he burst into tears when the realization that Thorin was not there to see his son.

 

 

 


	8. Fee-we and Kee-we

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lobelia picks a bone (that's all she does), Mirabella isn't picking back (she might kick), Frodo is scared (he hates shouting) and two big people help Frodo to Hobbiton (well, they aren't THAT big)

* * *

 

            So it was, that just one month after the birth of Frodo, Primula and Drogo moved out of Bag End.

            The couple had offered to buy a small smial right down the way on Bagshot Row but Bilbo said no. Having Frodo so close and yet not be able to recognize him for what he was, was already too painful, let alone if Bilbo were forced to see the lad every day. It would end up being torturous. Bilbo suggested that Primula and Drogo move to Buckland and to near Prim’s family. They would see each other now and then, so it wasn’t so bad.

            Of course, Bilbo never counted on how much his heart would ache; how much he would miss Frodo every hour, of every day. And when he coupled that with his heartache at missing Thorin, Bilbo realized that torture was not going to be avoided, no matter how far the distance.

            Bilbo also never counted on Prim and Drogo going out in that damn boat three years later!

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Lobelia was livid. _LIVID!_ She wouldn't have had the words to tell anyone that asked her just how livid she was! Of course, with her marching down the road, a thundercloud over her head and murder in her eyes, there wasn’t a Hobbit around that would have dared ask her; hell, not even an Orc would have dared cross her at that moment.

            _Of all the hair-brained, knuckle-headed, seizure-inducing, tantrum-causing, head-bashingly, stupid ideas!   Just what was going through the minds of those good-for-nothing idiots?! Truly! What Hobbit with sense—what being with sense when it comes to it—thinks a night-time float down the river in a dingy is a good idea for a romantic evening?!_

Lobelia continued to march down the road. If she had to walk on her hands _and_ knees to get to Buckland and keep that softheaded Mirabella Brandybuck, from ruining all her carefully laid plans, she do it!

            _I don’t care how crowded Brandy Hall is—I don’t care how many children Primula’s sister already has—I don’t care if Primula and Drogo had their wishes written in their wills—I don’t care if they had their wishes tattoo on their arses!—If that milksop, Mirabella Brandybuck, thinks for one second I will allow her to give that Dwobbit brat back to Bilbo to care for, she is going to have another thing coming!_

            She continued down the road for sometime, totally in her own zone, rehearsing all that she was going to say to, do to, or threaten Mirabella with, over and over and over again!! She absolutely would not stand—

            _There she is, that no-good goodie-two-shoes!_ Sure enough, just a little bit ahead there came Mirabella with little Frodo skipping along side her.

            “Mirabella Brandybuck!” Lobelia called out as she got closer. “I have a bone to pick with you!”

            “Lobelia Sackville-Baggins,” Mirabella said with a sardonic smile. “What an unexpected … situation. I’d wish you good morning, but seeing as you are here, I think _'good'_ would be going to far.”

            “Don’t try to get on my good side, Mirabella. I no longer have one.”

            “Did you ever?”

            And with that, they were off—both flinging and throwing snarks, insults and innuendos back and forth.

            But both failed to notice something important. You see, Mirabella failed to notice Frodo slipping away, afraid. But, Lobelia, and this was even worse, failed to notice that she had actually set in motion her downfall.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Frodo didn’t like yelling. Mummy and Daddy never yelled. They always had fun and played games! Mummy would let him help her in the kitchen. YAY! And Daddy would always tell stories and make up funny poems!

            And of course, Mummy and Daddy both used to tell Frodo about Uncle Bilbo! Daddy always said that Uncle Bilbo was the bestest Hobbit in all The Shire! Daddy said that Uncle Bilbo had gone to a mountain far away and battled a dragon and fought Elves and made friends with Dorks.

            Or maybe it was it friends with the Elves but fought the Dorks.

            Or was it petted a dragon and made friends with Dorks, but battled the Elves?

            _Whata Merry and Pippin knows anyway!  
_

            And, Mummy always said that if Frodo ever needed help to go see Uncle Bilbo because he was the most smartest, bestest Hobbit ever!

            But he had never met Uncle Bilbo yet—the mean lady, Loba or Lulu or something or other—always got in the way! At every party, all the time! How rude was that?!

            And since he had never met Uncle Bilbo, he had no idea where he lived or anything! And now his Mummy and Daddy were not here and he couldn’t find Uncle Bilbo and he was lost and all that was just not fair!

            It wasn’t fair at all!

            And he was just going to sit here and eat worms!

            _Well, not really—eewww—but still!_

There were sounds! Was someone coming? Was it Grandma Mira? No, it wasn’t, the foot steps sounds like heavy. And besides, Grandma Mira smelled like fresh bread and turnips greens—whoever was coming smelled like—they smelled like— _hhmmmm, who knows what they smell like, they just smell._

Frodo scooted off the road and hide under the ferns!   No one would ever think to look there for him! Of course, he failed to realize one, tiny little detail as he sat there sniffling; sound carries.

            He sat there for a minute before two sets of heavy, leather wrapped boots stopped right in front of the fern he was hiding in and stayed there. Frodo was mesmerized by the boots until, suddenly, whoever the boots belonged to bend down and the fern pulled back, startling Frodo, who stared back at two beings who were so not Hobbits.

            _They have furry faces! Why?!_

            “Hello there, little one,” said the golden-haired one, who had a short beard and braided mustache. This one wore a kind smile.

            “Are you lost?” asked the brown-haired one with furry cheeks and chin, and had a sweet smile.

            Frodo liked them both, but he was too scared to talk, so he just nodded.

            “You can come out,” the golden-haired one said.

            Oh, no. Frodo wasn’t so sure about that, now!

            “We won’t hurt you,” the brown-haired one said. “We promise.”

            Oh, well, now that’s different! A promise is a promise and since they promised it must be okay.

            Frodo came out and took a hand from each of the others. The hands were rough but warm and Frodo just felt better to hold their hands as they walked.

            “Do you know where you Amad and Adad are?” The brown-haired one asked.

            “Not Amad and Adad, Kili,” the golden haired one said with a huff. “He doesn’t speak Khuz-dul!”

            Frodo was confused. _Kee-we? Wasn’t that a little fuzzy fruit?! Of course, he did have fuzzy cheeks so maybe that’s okay then._

            “Oh, yeah!” the fruity one said. “It’s Ma and Da, right?”

            The golden-haired one nodded. “Do you know where your Ma and Da are?”

            “D’ey when aways,” Frodo said. Grandma Mira told him so and she never lies.

            “They went away, did they,” the golden-haired one repeated. “Do you know where they went to?”

            “Dare wif t’e Gween Wady,” Frodo said. He again, thanked Grandma Mira, she knew lots and lots.

            “The Green Lady?” the golden-haired one said. “Is that her last name? Green?”

            “Maybe she wears green,” the fruity-one added.

            “No, no,” Frodo said. “S’ees marreed to Ward Aule!”

            The other two stopped dead in the road.

            “Sweet Mahal,” the fruity-one said.

            “You’re Ma and Da went to see Lord Aule and his wife, Lady Yavanna?” the golden-haired one asked quietly.

            “That’s their names!” Frodo was so excited— _they got it right_! “Gwan’ma Mira said t’ed gonna stay ah wong time.”

            “I’m sure,” the fruity one said, picking Frodo up and setting him on his hip.

            Frodo liked that even better! It was nice to be this high and he liked this Kee-we, he had pretty hair, especially when Frodo laid his head on Kee-we’s shoulder.

            “Where is your Grandma?” the golden-haired on asked. “Do you know?”

            “S’ee waz going to Hobbibitton,” Frodo said. He was sure he got that right.

            “Well, we are going there too,” said Kee-we. “So you can come along.”

            Frodo giggled at that. _Of course he could come, Kee-we was carrying him!_

            “Waz your name?” Frodo asked the golden-haired one.

            “I’m Fili.”

            “Fee-we and Kee-we,” Frodo said with glee.

            “No, Fili and Kili,” Kee-we said.

            “T’ats wad I say!   Fee-we and Kee-we!”

            “Close enough,’ Fee-we said with a shrug.

            “What’s your name, little one?” Kee-we asked.

            “I’m Fwodo,” he was quite proud of himself.

            “And do you remember where you Grandma and you were going in Hobbiton?”

            “To sees Unc’a Bilbo,” Frodo said.  _Wasn't it obvious?!_

            Once again, the two stopped dead in the road.

            “You’ve got an Uncle named Bilbo?” Fee-we asked with huge eyes.

            Frodo nodded. _Didn’t everyone know that? He did!_

            “What’s his last name, Frodo?” Kee-wee asked with a strange expression and smile on his face.

            “Same as mine!” Frodo said throwing his fists in the air. “BAGGIIIIIINS!!”

            The two others laughed out loud and cheered. Frodo thought his last name was great too!!

            “Your uncle is _Bilbo Baggins, of The Shire_?!” Fee-we asked with a huge grin.

            Frodo nodded. He was quite pleased when, once again, Fee-we and Kee-we laughed out loud.

            “Well, what are we waiting for?” Kee-we called out. “Let’s go see your Uncle!”

            “YAY!” Frodo cheered. “Mummy said that Unc'a Bilbo is t’e BESTEST HOBBIT EVER!!”

            “Oh, don’t we know it, little one!” Fee-we said.

            Suddenly Frodo found himself on Kee-we’s back and they were all running and jumping and skipping and laughing and hollering down the lane.

            It was AWESOME!!

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know - Lord Aule is the name the other races call Lord Mahal.
> 
> Fili and Kili aren't dense when Frodo says his uncle is named Bilbo - they just want to verify, there could be another Bilbo in the shire for all they know. Just saying.


	9. WHACK!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili are worried (Thorin's gonna be mad), Thorin IS mad (Did you two break my Hobbit?), Frodo was lost (it's okay now), and Bilbo has a Dwarf to take care of (WHACK!)

* * *

 

 

            “Wake up, Unc’a Bilbo, wake up!” Frodo poked his uncle in the head but got no response. Frodo tilted his head from sided to side, studying his uncle before rapping on Bilbo’s forehead with his little knuckles like he was knocking on a door; still nothing.

            “Hees s’eeping,” Frodo said looking at Fili who turned and looked at Kili.

            “He is _so_ , not sleeping, little one,” Kili said turning his gaze to his, hopefully, future Hobbit-uncle--who was laying flat on his back in the foyer of Bag End.

            Fili just shook his head.

            Fili and Kili had been traveling ahead of their Uncle with the idea that they would arrive first and slowly ease their burglar into the idea that they were alive and well and that Uncle Thorin was just a short way away.

            Then they ran into Frodo and what a stroke of luck was that? To run into Bilbo’s little nephew who had somehow gotten lost on his way to see his uncle was just too much of a blessing from Mahal! Hell, they even thought his lovely wife, the Green Lady, as Frodo had called Yavanna, must have a hand in it as well!

            It was all so perfect.

            Well, at least until Bilbo opened the door.

            Mahal’s balls—neither Dwarf remembered Bilbo fainting that quickly the last time.

            Now, after all the pain, all the heartache, all the misery, all the wandering and whatnot, for it all to come to this; a lost fauntling, two hapless Dwarfs, an out-cold Hobbit burglar who they love like their own kin, and a very, very grumpy Dwarf Uncle who is so not going to be happy when he arrived.

            “Uncle Thorin is going to be _so_ pissed off,” Fili said.

            “And why am I going to be—” Thorin said as he came up to the front door of Bag End, only to freeze on the threshold. “ _What_ in the name of Mahal’s hairy arse happened?! Did you two break my Hobbit?”

            Kili moved quickly out of the way as Thorin rushed forward to Bilbo’s side. As he seized Bilbo’s hand closest to him, Thorin’s other hand came up and he cupped his love’s face.

            “Hees s’eeping,” Frodo said, startling Thorin who did not see the little fauntling standing next to Fili.

            Thorin grunted out a perplexed laugh as he looked from the fauntling to Fili and then back again. “And who are you, little one?” Thorin asked with gentle smile.

            “Fwodo Baggins!” Frodo said, raising his arms and fists in the air in his little cheer.

            Thorin swallowed thickly. “Baggins?” He repeated in a defeated tone.

            “He’s Bilbo’s nephew,” Kili said quickly and both he and his brother watched the relief spread across their Uncle’s face.

            “Nephew,” Thorin said with sigh. “Good. Fine. That’s great.” He smiled now at Frodo. “It’s a pleasure to meet you … _Fwodo_?”

            “FRO-do,” Fili corrected. “Seems to have a spot of trouble with his _‘Rs’_.”

            “And,” Kili added, “occasionally his _‘Ls’_.”

            “Right,” Thorin said, now turning his full attention to Bilbo. “Let’s get our burglar up and awake.”

            Thorin gently lifted Bilbo off the floor and into his arms, carrying him to the nearest chair. Fili hurried to open the windows in the parlour while Kili rushed to the kitchen to put water on for tea—no one had to be told that Bilbo would want his tea when he came to. Thorin knelt by Bilbo’s side, holding one hand and gently rubbing it; hoping to ease Bilbo into wakefulness. Frodo hovered on the opposite of Bilbo from Thorin, putting a hand on his Uncle’s knee.

            It wasn’t long before Bilbo made a small noise. Fili moved to stand behind Thorin and Kili came over with the hot mug of tea and knelt in front of Bilbo. They all held their breaths as slowly, Bilbo’s eyes fluttered open.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo------

 

            It was supposed to be a lovely day!

            _Honestly! The house was clean, tonight’s stew was simmering on the back burner, and oh look, the bread was rising perfectly and the butterflies were flying and all that happy crap! What the hell!?_

Bilbo had been so excited! Mirabella was bringing Frodo by to official meet Uncle Bilbo— _because hell-on-wheels, Lobelia, has sabotaged every, single attempt at him getting to know his son/nephew_ —and who knows, maybe Bilbo could take him in. He knew Lobelia would have a thing or two to say about that.

_Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t made her way up here to pick a bone with me. The Green Lady knows I got something she can ‘pick!’_

            But really, even if Mira did want Bilbo to take in Frodo, he would keep to the bargain and raise Frodo as his nephew. He needn’t adopt him; Lobelia can have the damn smial at this point and Bilbo would be glad of it.

            He just wanted his son back in his life.

            The heartache had become too much to bear and he knew he would give up his life right now and Lobelia could just take—

            That was it.

            That was the solution.

            Lobelia can have Bag End now. He let her have it— _silverware and all, for all I care!—_ and he would move into Prim and Drogo’s little place and raise Frodo there! That would give him back his son, Frodo wouldn’t have to move to a strange place, they would be near Prim’s family and maybe, _just maybe_ , Lobelia would be completely and finally out of his life!

            _Yeah—it WAS a good plan!_

_Leave it to Lobelia to even ruin plans that would have benefited her!_

            Mirabella had come running to Bag End in a frantic mess. Lobelia had stopped her on the road here and they got into an argument—she didn’t understand why Lobelia cared so much if Frodo came to live him or not! It made no sense to Mira.

_That’s the problem with all these lies—they catch up to you in the end!_

            But worst of all—the absolute worst—was that Frodo was missing! He had run off when the shouting started, or at least, Mira thought so—she hadn’t seen him slip away! They were people out now, combing the woods, and the Shirriffs had been notified, as well as the Bounders. Bilbo was desperate to go and look but Mirabella had been logical; Frodo might be found and someone might bring him to Bag End, since the boy knew they were going to see _‘Unc’a Bilbo’_ , so really, Bilbo should stay, in case someone brought Frodo there.

            It was a horrible— _HORRIBLE_ —situation but Bilbo agreed.

            Of course, he did nothing but pace back and forth and to and fro and, honestly, he hoped the floor boards could handle the continued pacing!

            That’s when there was a knock. A nice loud, adult, knock on the door and as he ran for the front door— _blessed be the Lady!—_ he heard Frodo’s voice calling out. “Unc’a Bilbo! I here!”

            Of course, it was when he opened the door and saw Frodo just float in the mid-air— _he must be floating because there was no, frigging, FUCKING WAY, that two Dwarfs he had loved like sons and cried over their passing and mourned their deaths to this day, could be standing there holding what only he knew to be their little cousin!_

            _OH. MY. FUCKING. GODDESS!!_

            “Hi Unc’a Bilbo! Looks waz I gots,” Frodo said with a huge smile and his arms outstretched. “Fee-we and Kee-we!”

            “Hi, Bilbo!” Both Dwarf ghosts said to him in unison.

           _Yeah, so sorry, but I really need to check out now._

            How long ago was that? Bilbo couldn’t say. Actually, Bilbo couldn’t say much because he barely had a clue as to his name let alone what was going on.

            The first thing that hit him was the smell of tea.

_Oh, that’s lovely; tea would so nice right now. And a scone. Mmmmm, tea and scone—delicious! Maybe a little butter and some jam too would be—_

_Wait._

_That’s birdsong. Did I open the window? When did I do that? And who is that talking?_

            “Is he awake?”

            “Not fully.”

            “Bilbo, can you hear us?”

            _Kind of_

            “Let him wake slowly.”

            “Unc’a Bilbo, yous need toe wake up.”

            _Frodo? Is that Frodo?_

            “He’s stirring—everyone be silent.”

_No, don’t stop talking, I like it. Who’s there? Where is there? And why does my hand feel heavy? What am I holding? It’s thick and kinda rough but … squishy too. What is it? Oh, wait.   It’s another hand. Someone’s holding my hand. That’s lovely too! It feels so nice—just like Thorin’s—he had those lovely, meaty hands.  They where rough and callused, and—_

_OH MY GODDESS, THAT’S THORIN’S HAND_

Bilbo’s eyes snapped open and he wanted to scream out loud because there was THREE FUCKING GHOSTS RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF HIM!! Bilbo tore his hand out of Thorin’s and back up as far as he could, almost balling himself up into the far side of the chair from The Dwarf. Thorin continued to kneel at the other side, Fili and Kili standing behind him, Kili holding what looked like a cuppa for him.

            God he really wanted that but he was NOT going anywhere near—

            “Sanâzyung,” Thorin said, “Please don’t be—”

            WHACK!

            “Whoa!” Fili exclaimed.

            “Unc’a Bilbo, yous hit good!”

            “Sorry,” Bilbo stammered out. “It was just a reflex.”

            “It’s okay,” Thorin just rub the side of his face where Bilbo’s handprint was welting up now. “I kinda deserved—”

            WHACK!

            Kili and Fili wore matching grimaces and Frodo just giggled, while Thorin now rubbed the other cheek.

            “I deserve that one too,” Thorin said softly.

            “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” Bilbo wanted answers _right now_!

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Thorin first heard Frodo's name - he thought he was Bilbo's son - he was so relieved to find out that Frodo was Bilbo's nephew. AT least he is for now - JUST WAIT!!


	10. The Walking Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili and Fili take Frodo outside (cowards), Thorin has to explain (you know he does), Bilbo is shocked (really, braids there?), and Frodo forces Bilbo to explain somethings himself (you know it had to come out).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khagolabbad - Blue Mountains

* * *

 

            _Okay, so, everything is just peachy._

_Yep—no issues here._

_Just enjoying my tea._

_Nothing to worry about._

_EXCEPT MY DEAD, BUT NOT-REALLY-DEAD, LOVER IS SITTING HERE!_

“Okay,” Bilbo couldn’t take it anymore. “I want to know what in the _name of Mordor’s black gate_ happened!”

            Thorin at least had the decency to look contrite— _He better if knows what’s good for him! Or it won’t be his face I start smacking around!_

..... _  
_

_Oh, who am I kidding?!_

“Thorin,” Bilbo said softly, “Please tell me what happened.”

            The boys were not around. Fili and Kili offered to give their Uncle and burglar privacy and had taken Frodo into the back garden to play. As surreal as the day had become, Bilbo wasn’t about to let Thorin out of his sight; not now, not later, _not ever_! But he still wanted to know what happened.

            Had it been Thorin’s idea?

            _Until he tells me different, I won’t believe it._

            Had it been Gandalf’s?

            _That old coot might be many things--sneaky bastard that he was--but a hurtful liar wasn’t one of them._

            Had it been Dain?

            _Most likely._

            Why?

            _Well, let’s just let Thorin talk—what a brilliant idea that would be, hmm?_

            Thorin took a few deep breaths before speaking.

            “When I woke the first time,” Thorin started, “my only thought was to make peace with you, as you know, because I truly did believe that I would not survive and I could not bear the thought that you would live on believing that I still, ha—” Thorin’s voice broke and it was a minute before he could continue. “I could not to bear to think you would feel that I—that I—I hated you.” Thorin’s voice was strained then and Bilbo instinctively reached out to take a hand and plant a kiss there.

            “I never believed you hated me,” Bilbo whispered.

            “I said such unforgivable thi—”

            “You listen to me, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo said quietly. “I have you back from the dead, sitting in my home, and I will not revisit things that have already been forgiven. Do you understand me?” Thorin nodded but said nothing—Bilbo suspected the Dwarf didn’t trust his voice at present. “You have been forgiven a hundred times over.”

            Suddenly Bilbo was enveloped in strong arms and finally felt like he was home.

            “Tell me what happened after,” Bilbo pressed as they slowly pulled apart.

            “When I woke again,” Thorin continued. ““My throat was in pain and I found out they had been ladling hot broth down our throats in efforts to keep us alive.”

            “By all that is green!” Bilbo said, disgusted. “Why didn’t they let it cool? What was Oin thinking?”

            “It was not Oin’s doing,” Thorin stated. “We, the boys and I, had been isolated from the rest of the company.”

            “What?” Bilbo was stunned.

            “I had no idea how long I had been out,” Thorin pushed on, “or why we were still in a tent if the mountain had been retaken. It was days before I was strong enough to sit up; that’s when I learned it had been almost two weeks since I spoke with you. I asked for you, but no one would tell me anything. Finally Dain came to see me and told me that because of the madness and the battle and my failure to avoid conflict with Dale and Mirkwood, the council had removed us from the line of succession and we three had been declared dead.”

            “He told me you were dead as well,” Bilbo said bitterly. “I wanted to see you and he refused. He told me that dead men have no need for visitors or something. I even begged and he told me that it changed nothing. But how could you be declared dead when you are sitting right here?”

            “Not physically dead, Bilbo,” Thorin said resigned voice. “But according to Dwarrow tradition, we were declared _‘Historically Dead.’_ This meant that our names, our line and all that we did and were, was to be struck from any and all historical records from that point forward. For all intents and purposes, we were dead.”

            “Oh my goodness,” Bilbo was shocked. _Didn’t see that one coming. Talk about the walking dead._

“I begged to see you, as well,” Thorin said quietly. “But he told me that you were lost to me in every way possible.”

 _Whoa, excuse me?_ “How dare he assume what was in my heart!” Bilbo was not happy in the least. _Well, that would go without saying really._

            “No, my love,” Thorin said, caressing Bilbo’s face. “He indicated that you were lost to me, not only emotionally but physically as well.”

            “Are you saying that he told you I was dead?!”

            “Not in so many words, but he did his level best to convince me, to make me believe it and when I did, he did nothing to correct my incorrect assumptions.”

            _Why that two-faced, bloated, son-of-Orc! If I ever see his filthy face again, I’ll—_

            “So help me,” Bilbo said with a sneer. “If I ever see Dain’s face again—”

            “If you see Dain’s face in Hobbiton,” Thorin said. “I will take care of him.”

            Bilbo hugged his Dwarf tight for that. _By the Green Lady it was wondrous to have him back!_

            “But, Thorin,” Bilbo said pulling back, “Where have you been for the last four years?”

            “Well,” Thorin said a sigh. “Once we were all on our feet, we were stripped of our braids and insignia of the Line of Durin and cast out. The company had been kept from us; none knew we actually lived. We were forced to go; we were even forbidden to go to Dale—”

            “Of course! Because Gandalf took me through Dale and Bard would have told you that I had lived!”

            “We decided to head south.”

            “Why didn’t you head back they way we came?”

            “Thranduil sided with Dain and threatened the three of us with imprisonment should we travel into or through Mirkwood.”

            “What?! Thranduil?! Bitch!”

            “So south was the only option.”

            “Did you go to Rohan?”

            “Eventually, but first we had to survive the winter somehow.”

            “Oh my god! They cast you out into the winter cold?!”

            “Yes.”

            “Dain really is an arse-kissing, pig-fucker!”

            Thorin laughed at that. “Clearly we survived, but Fili almost lost his toes to frostbite, while Kili almost lost his fingers on his bow hand.”

            “And you?”

            “I’m fine.”

            “I know you, Thorin! Fine could mean you’re missing a chuck of flesh somewhere!”

            “I have all the important bits, don’t worry.”

            “I will always worry! And _what_ are you missing?!”

            “Nothing, my love! I swear on my own tomb!”

            “Your tomb is empty, Thorin.”

            “It’s the principle that counts.”

            “Stubborn Mule!”

            “Insufferable Nag.”

            Bilbo coulnd't help but laugh. “Listen to us. Not back together an hour and already snarking.”

            “I know,” Thorin smiled and Bilbo chuckled. “It’s wondrous.”

            “So, you made it to Rohan.”

            “We crossed the Anduin at South Undeep and then traveled a year through The Wold, visiting the many villages throughout East and West Emnet. Finally we arrived at Edoras and King Fengel was most welcoming.  We stayed there for another year; upgrading many of the weapons and shields of the king’s garrison and anyone that came to the capital.

            “Finally, the time came that we had to move on. I had originally thought of traveling through the Gap of Rohan but I disliked being close to Orthanc and Saruman; both my grandfather and father never liked him and I distrusted him. Plus, not only were there very few settlements or villages alone the North-South Road, but it is far, wide-open country, very little protection; unnerving for Dwarfs. So in the end, we decided to travel up the west side of Mirkwood and try to either cross over Khazad-dum or continue on and take the route that we had during the quest on the East-West Road.

            “However, while we sought to avoid Lothlorien, we were set upon by a rouge Orc pack.”

            “Oh, no!”

            “Fear not, we clearly survived and I have to say, it was due to the Elves.”

            “I am amazed to hear you say that, my love.”

            Thorin sighed. “I'm well aware of your opinion, _of my opinion_ of the Elves. But in this case, I must thank them wholeheartedly. You see, not only did they assist with the Orcs and give us shelter for another winter, but it was The Lady of Lothlorien herself who told me of your survival and safe return to The Shire.”

            Bilbo was amazed. “I wasn’t even aware she knew I existed.”

            “You forget she was in Rivendell when we were on the quest; she is well aware of your existence. Plus she had been in contact with Gandalf since the end of the Battle of Five Armies and he told her of you and your deeds.”

            “That’s kind of him.”

            “That’s the least any of us could do for you, Bilbo.”

            “Anyway,” Bilbo felt embarrassed at his praise; he did what he did for Thorin, not praise. “What happened when you left Lothlorien?”

            “Lady Galadriel sent us on our way with an escort to the East-West Road, but our ultimate goal was Khagolabbad, and make ourselves known to my sister.”

            “Wait!   You mean you never contacted Dis to let her know you three lived?!”

            “No.”

            “Oh, Thorin! Why?”

            “The original plan of the quest was for her to join us in Erebor after it was secured! I was under the impression that she was already there, and part of our banishment was that we were forbidden to have contact with Erebor in any way. Only as we got closer to Bree, did we learn the truth; she stayed in Khagolabbad with those that refused to move to Erebor without me on the throne.

            “I also came to realize at that time, what I really wanted, more than anything, was to see you again. And that is how the boys and I are here now.”

            Bilbo leaned into Thorin and felt content. He was happy to have him back, but he had to ask, “How did you find out Dis didn’t go?”

            “We ran into some old friends.”

            “Who?!”

            “Dwalin and Ori.”

            Bilbo just sat there lost in his thoughts for a moment; Dwalin _and_ Ori?

            _DWALIN AND ORI?! That is about the strangest set of traveling companions._

            “My love,” Thorin asked softly. “Have I lost you?”

            “I am just trying to get the idea in my head; Dwalin and Ori?”

            “Yes. They are very happy together.”

            “Wait—what? Are you telling me they’re _a couple_?! I thought you just meant they were traveling together, but you’re saying they are together-together?”

            “Indeed,” Thorin said, looking confused at Bilbo’s confusion.

            _When did Ori get away from his brothers long enough to even make_ friends _with Dwalin, let alone do the deed?  Dwalin and Ori—that had to be the strangest OTP—well, barring a Dwarf-king and Hobbit-burglar, than yes, the great Dwarf-warrior and Dwarf-scribe had to be the strangest OTP ever!_

_Okay, maybe not EVER—but STILL!_

            “Granted, they may not be as obvious a pair as Balin and Dori—”

            _Excuse me …._

            “—nor as odd as Bofur and Nori—”

            _WHAT?!_

            “—but they’re as snug as Bifur and Oin.”

            _OMFG!_ “Okay, just stop, stop, stop, stop!” Bilbo’s head was spinning and he needed a moment; and a stiff drink.

            _Balin and Dori? Bofur and Nori?! BIFUR AND OIN!_

            “I just can’t—” Bilbo needed to breath for a minute more. _Four years away and THIS is what they all get up to in my absence?_

            “Bit much for you?” Thorin teased.

            “A little, yeah!” But, when Bilbo really thought about it—“Of course, there was that one time on the quest, when I caught Nori and Bofur in the woods alone. Bofur said he was just helping Nori _‘with his braids’_ , but—you never asked me to kneel to help with any braid down there.”

            “It does seem a bit usual,” Thorin stated thinking it over. “Very uncomfortable that. But then, it could’ve been true—I mean, you have seen Nori’s eyebrows, right?”

            Bilbo nodded; he had conceded it was possible. “Well, anyway, we can talk about coupling later.”

            Thorin wore a naught grin. “I’d very much like to talk to you about coupling later, if you wish.” Thorin wiggled his eyebrows and that elicited an affectionate eye-roll from his Hobbit.

            It was at that moment, Frodo came dashing through the smial with Kili and Fili hot on his tail; all three laughing and giggling. But Frodo wasn’t watching where he was going and ran SMACK, right into the wall!

            There was a collective gasp from all the adults—well, from the two adults and two _'suppose-to-be-adults-but-acted-like-dwarflings'_ former Dwarf Princes.

            Frodo however just shook his head, looked at Bilbo and Thorin, giggled brightly, jumped up and took off; his laughter echoing through Bag End.

            “He’s got a hard head, that one,” Fili said amazed.

            “He bounced off that wall like it was a pillow,” Kili said impressed.

            “His father must be rather hardy,” Thorin commented.

            _Oh dear._

            “Thorin, my love,” Bilbo said, his smile looking a bit like a grimace. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it wasn't said in the story - BUT, Dwalin found out about the 'historical death' of Thorin and the boys and left Erebor. His goal was to see Dis, inform her and then attempt to find his friends. what Dwalin didn't expect was that a few days after he left Erebor, Ori caught up to him and confessed his feelings, which Dwalin finally confessed that he too had feelings for Ori. both of them were on their way to Dis and ran into Thorin and the boys just outside Bree.


	11. Something Indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo is happy (when isn't he), Thorin is stunned (not surprisng), Kili and Fili are too (of course) but BIlbo has to tell the truth (it's going to get ugly)

* * *

 

            _“Thorin, my love, there’s something I need to tell you.”_

            Something indeed!

            Bilbo had insisted that they _all_ take Frodo out to the back garden this time. There were advantages to it. One, Frodo could play and be watched so that Kili and Fili could sit close by and listen to Bilbo’s tale—he didn’t feel that keeping them in the dark was either fair, or practical as they would find out very soon anyway. And second, and most important, Thorin could observe Frodo in his most happy, content form—running after butterflies while laughing and giggling.

            Bilbo truly had no idea how Thorin would take the news; would he be happy or would he reject the very idea and storm away. Also, Thorin was less likely to make a scene outside.

            However, there seemed little reason to worry about the last bit as Thorin only sat there, not speaking, not moving, his eyes always on Frodo as Bilbo told the tale from the end of the battle to Frodo’s birth.

            “I have—a child,” Thorin stated flatly.

            “Yes,” Bilbo answered, unsure what Thorin was thinking really.

            “I have a son,” Thorin said. “You bore me _a son._ ”

            “Yes,” Bilbo replied, a little worried especially as the furrow between Thorin’s eyes grew deeper.

            “How is this possible?” Thorin asked, turning to Bilbo.

            “Okay,” Bilbo said and took a deep breath to continue.

            Bilbo proceeded to tell Thorin about how there were once three types of Hobbits; _the Harfoots_ —the most numerous kind and who once had close ties to the Dwarfs in ages gone by, _the Stoors_ —odd Hobbits that actually _liked water,_ if one could imagine, and finally _the Fallohides_ —the least common type that preferred trees and woodlands and were very close to the Elves.

            It was supposedly the Fallohides males, that Hobbit lore states, that were able to bear children. This ability was said to be a gift from their Elven friends, or that the Elves taught them magical means to bear children, or even that the sexes were reversed in many ways.

            Regardless of legend, as the different types of Hobbits merged to form one race, every now and then, without warning and within any family, a male may be born that could both sire _and_ bear offspring.

            Bilbo was one such Hobbit.

            Thorin sat there looking stunned. “How could you not tell me?”

            Bilbo sighed. “I didn’t know I was able.”

            “How could you _not_ know?!”

            “Excuse me,” Bilbo felt is ‘snark’ coming on, “but it takes another male to get a male Hobbit in _the family way_!” Bilbo gave a pointed look at Thorin and hoped he got the idea.

            Thorin did but was still confused. “So you’re saying I’m the only male you have ever been with?”

            “All I’m saying,” Bilbo said without saying it, “is that in the past I wasn’t the … _passive partner_.”

            “Oh,” Thorin said as a smirk formed on his face. “I hope you didn’t find our love-making to your dislike then.”

            Bilbo shot Thorin a narrowed gaze that didn’t dispel Thorin’s smirk in the slightest. “You know perfectly well that I didn’t—and now is _not the time_ to be fishing for compliments regarding your sexual prowess!”

            Thorin laughed at that. “I don’t mean to tease, sanâzyung,” Thorin whispered, then proceeded to kiss the point shell of Bilbo’s ear. “I’m just trying to adjust to all this.”

            “But you are happy about it?” Bilbo worried.

            “More than happy, sanâzyung,” Thorin kissed Bilbo lightly. “But I am curious. Why does Frodo call you _‘uncle?’_ ”

            _Oh my._

            Bilbo proceeded to explain about Prim, Drogo and then Lobelia’s threats. He told of Prim’s deception and finally the adoption. While he had stopped worrying about Thorin's rejection of Frodo, Bilbo could see that these new developments were not sitting well with his beloved—especially as Thorin’s eyes darkened and old scowl came back with a vengeance

            “Thorin,” Bilbo said, now scared. “Please try to understand that—”

            “Oh, I understand,” Thorin spat out lowly. “You gave away our child!”

            “Thorin, it wasn’t like that.”

            “It sounds _exactly_ like that!”

            “Thorin, please listen—”

            “I’m done listening!” Thorin hissed out, stormed to the backdoor and slammed it behind him as he entered the smial.

            “Is Mi’ter T’orin, okay?” Frodo asked surprised.

            “Yes, sweetpea. He just—just—needs the bathroom,” Bilbo offered lamely.

            “He muz haff toe go _bad_!” Frodo said with wide-eyes.

            “Well,” Fili said under his breath. “Mahal knows, he’s probably mad enough to shit-a-brick.”

            “Yeah,” Kili offered quietly. “A big, steamy—”

            “ALRIGHT!” Bilbo wanted no more mental images. “That’ll be quite enough, thank you.” Bilbo stood and took off after his Dwarf. He just had to make Thorin understand.

            Bilbo didn’t have to look far or wide for his love. Thorin was pacing the back and forth in the Atrium, his hands clasped behind his back and his face in a scowl. Bilbo knew he was angry but if he could just explain the situation. He felt something at his back and turned to find Fili standing there.

            “Where’s Frodo?” Bilbo whispered.

            “Kili said he would stay with him,” Fili replied.

            Bilbo nodded then turned back to Thorin. “Wish me luck,” Bilbo whispered taking a breath.

            “It’ll be alright,” Fili whispered back. “He loves you, Bilbo—he’s just angry right now.”

            Bilbo nodded again and stepped forward.

            Thorin didn’t slow as Bilbo slowly strode into the hall.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo started.

            “How could you?” Thorin thundered halting to turn on Bilbo.

            “My love, please understand,” Bilbo said, wringing his hands.

            “How could you give him away, Bilbo?”

            “I couldn’t keep him!”

            “Why, because he was but the spawn of Dwarf?!

            “How can you say that?!”

            “Was it so disgusting bearing the child of Dwarf that you took the first chance you could to be rid of him!”

            “That is an ugly accusation and you damn well know it, Thorin!”

            “DO I?! You say you love me but you gave away the one thing of me you truly had!”

            “I never wanted any of this to happen!”

            “But it did happen!” Thorin yelled as he started to pace again. “You took a gift, _our gift_ , given to us by Mahal and his Lady—a gift any Dwarf or Dwarrowdam would’ve give their right eye for—and gave him away!”

            “I didn’t _give him away_.”

            “You gave him to strangers to rise!”

            “He was with my cousins! Cousins I loved and adored and who in turned treated him as their own!”

            “Then they should have had their own!”

            “They couldn’t have any! If you must know!”

            “So you gave our son away as charity?!”

            “The adoption had nothing to do Prim and Drogo conception issues!”

            “In other words, there was no reason to give him up!”

            “I gave him up to protect him!”

            “From what? A loveless home?!”

            “FROM BEING KILLED!”

 

 

 


	12. Down to the Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo explains (finally), Thorin doesn't believe (it's horrible), Fili is sick (it's a disgusting thought), and finally there is a plan (well, sort of)

* * *

 

           

            Thorin just stood there; like a statue.

            “Thorin?”

            It would have been amusing at any other time. Not now.

            “Thorin—answer me.”

            Thorin did open his mouth but after moving it up and down and still nothing, he closed it again; proceeding to just stare straight ahead.

            Bilbo huffed in frustration and put his hands on his hips. “Thorin Oakenshield, if you don’t say something I will—uhm—”  _Well, crap - what will i do?!_

            “I think you have gone insane.”

            “You stand there like a stone pillar, not speaking and when you do, that’s what I get? A disparaging remark against my sanity?”

            “Killed? What the hell are you talking about?”

            Bilbo sighed. “Are you actually going to listen to me now?”

            Thorin nodded and Bilbo gently lead his great, lump of a Dwarf into the parlour. Bilbo sat Thorin down by the fire and Fili took a seat on the floor next to him. The former prince didn’t look much more with it than his uncle but then, Bilbo should have expected them to act this way.

            “When I was young,” Bilbo said taking the chair opposite Thorin’s, “there was nothing we all liked better than stories. New ones, old ones, fairy stories, historical lore, you name it. And when it came to telling stories there wasn’t anyone as enthralling as Old Fraebert Merryweather.

            “There was a group of us that ran around in those days; Rosemary Fulbrush, Asphodel Twofoot, Boran Smallacre, Myrtle Longbranch, sometimes Myrtle’s little sister Gemma, Bruno and Lobelia Bracegridle, my cousin Otho Sackville-Baggins and, of course, myself.

            “We would often time find ourselves over at Fraebert’s garden and he would tell us tales of days gone by, myths of old and the legends of how Hobbits came over the misty mountains and settled in The Shire.”

            “Hobbits aren’t from here?” Fili asked incredulously.

            “No,” Bilbo said, a little distracted. “There say we originally came from somewhere near the Anduin River, not far from where Beorn’s Hall is.”

            “You never said anything,” Fili said.

            “We were on a quest,” Bilbo said eye-roll. “I didn’t think chasing archeological proof of my forbearers that important in the scheme of things.” Fili nodded but said no more.

            “As I was saying,” Bilbo continued, giving Thorin a worried look because the Dwarf still hadn’t made any moves. “We often found ourselves listening to tales from Fraebert. It was during these stories that we would hear of the Breeding Males and the theories behind their … _condition_.”

            “Condition?” Thorin said with a slight sneer on his face. “You think it’s some kind of disease?”

            “I am sure to Dwarfs,” Bilbo said gently, “who I am well aware have difficulty having children at times, it seems odd.”

            “Odd?” Thorin said. “Try insulting. You are given a gift by the gods and you look on it with disdain? Dwarfs would give up almost anything to have the ability to breed so—we _treasure_ our children.”

            The emphasis was not lost on Bilbo. “Hobbits do too, Thorin. That isn’t fair—to my race or me.”

            Thorin at decency at least look a little apologetic for his words.

            “Now,” Bilbo continued. “Fraebert told how Breeding Males were seen as abominations, because of the fact that the only way for a male Hobbit to get pregnant was to have to sex with another male.”

            “But I thought your tween years were about _‘exploration?’_ ” Thorin remarked.

            “Yes,” Bilbo agreed, “but there is a vast difference in the eyes of Hobbit society between copping a feel with your friends behind the shed and penetrative sex to the point of completion between two grown Hobbit males. You understand?”

            “No.” Thorin said. “That is contrary and hypocritical.”

            “Well,” Bilbo said with resignation, “welcome to my world.”

            “So you believe they wouldn’t accept you?” Fili asked quietly.

            “It’s beyond that, Fili,” Bilbo said. “You see, even the tweens who … _mess about_ , don’t talk about their exploits with their same-gender friends. But Old Fraebert would tell us that for an of-age Hobbit male to live life openly in a same-gender relationship, they would be shunned and ostracized to the point that vendors and tradesman would refuse goods and services. They would have to rely solely on family and that is only if family accepts them. Most likely they couple would be driven from town or forced to separate.”

            “That’s terrible!” Fili stated.

            “It’s barbaric,” Thorin sneered. “I thought better of Hobbits.”

            Bilbo had to laugh. “You’re as bad as Men; thinking us funny little people, in funny little homes. You think there isn’t anything more to us than eating, drinking and smoking pipeweed! But Hobbits have their own culture you know and it’s not always pretty once you dig down to the roots.”

            “So that’s why you gave up Frodo?” Fili looked confused. “Just because you would have been shunned?”

            “No, Fili,” Bilbo said sadly. “It’s worse than that. Old Fraebert told us how Breeding Males that actually did breed, would be—along with their offspring, at the very least, driven out of The Shire into the wild, left to fend for themselves. But there were also stories of Breeding Males and their children being stoned to death or thrown in the river to drown.”

            If the two Dwarfs before him were stunned and horrified by his words before, it was nothing compared to the looks on their faces now. Thorin looked like he had been struck across the face. Fili, on the other hand, looked like he was actually going to be sick before he stood and dashed from the room. Bilbo had a feeling though that Fili was going to talk to his brother.

            Bilbo waited for Thorin to speak—he didn’t have to wait long.

            “I can’t believe,” Thorin said with a shake of his head. “I just can’t.”

            “There hasn’t been a Breeding Male in decades,” Bilbo said quietly. “In fact, I have never met one. But you must see why I couldn’t risk keeping Frodo.”

            “You really believe they would harm you or Frodo?”

            “I don't know, but I was afraid they would; I couldn’t take the chance.”

            “Was that always your plan?”

            “No. In the beginning, I had invited Primula and Drogo to live here with me. I knew I would have had to tell them about the baby but I knew them well enough that I figured they wouldn’t judge me, and I was right. I always figured that with them living here, we could tell everyone that Frodo was theirs and yet I could raise him in Bag End and no one would be the wiser.”

            “Until Lobelia found out.”

            “Yes. Once she knew, she threatened to tell everyone. She and I both knew the stories, I knew what she was implying. In a way, it was ironic really—she could tell nothing but the truth and yet do more damage than a cartload of lies.”

            Thorin looked like he was going to chew nails. “And she forced you to give up our child.”

            “She wanted Frodo removed from my direct line, yes. That way, without a direct heir, her husband, Ortho, would be the next legal person to inherit Bag End should I die. With Frodo a child of Primula and Drogo—both are more distantly related to me than Ortho, any claim they might make for ownership of Bag End would be rejected outright.

            “You could have just named Frodo your heir in your will.”

            “A will that would have been contested, and eventually overridden. Whether Frodo had been actually born of Prim and Drogo or just adopted by him, I would have had to adopt him myself to be able to pass Bag End on without question.”

            “But he was already your son!”

            “A son, Lobelia had forced Prim and Drogo to adopt and one she knew I couldn’t reclaim without risking his life.”

            Thorin growled in frustration and stood up to pace about the parlour. “Why didn’t you go to the Blue Mountains?”

            Bilbo rolled his eyes at that one. “Oh sure, could you see it now, _‘Oh, hello Lady Dis, I’m your dead brother’s secret Hobbit lover and, oh by the way, did you know even though i'm a boy, after a few banging-hot sex sessions I now bear his child, and look, here he is!’_ Right, because that would have so gone over with her.”

            Thorin just stared for a second before busting out laughing. “Okay, I see your point.” The both laughed before Thorin continued on. “Was Rivendell not an option?”

            “I did think of going there, in the beginning,” Bilbo answered. “But by the time Lobelia found out, I was already too far along in my pregnancy for me to leave and I wouldn’t risk taking Frodo on that journey after he was born. You know as well as I do that the trip to Rivendell would have been dangerous for me alone, but for me and Frodo—neither of us would have survived.”

            Thorin had to concede that part.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo said standing himself and taking Thorin’s hands in his own. “Please understand. I did what I did because Frodo was all that was left of you in the world and to me. And I would have been willing to do anything to make sure he was happy, healthy and loved—even if that meant giving him up and having to watch from afar.”

            Thorin nodded. “I don’t like it. But I do understand.”

            “I’m sorry, Thorin.”

            “No, I am. I shouldn’t have overacted—I’m sorry.”

            “You were overwhelmed; you found out you had a son, lost him, and believed I had betrayed you again. Add all that to your ‘death’ and the last four years of your wandering alone—I think I can forgive you.”

            “It seems I’m always to beg for your forgiveness.”

            “Not beg—freely given.”

            “I should beg of yours. You shouldn’t have had to go through all this alone.”

            “I at least had my home and Prim and Drogo to be there for me.”

            “Still, I should have been here too.”

            “You know, why don’t we both get over ourselves and just—”

            “Just what, Bilbo?”

            “I love you.”

            “And I love you.”

            “Then that is all that needs to be said from here on out.”

            Thorin pulled Bilbo into a tight, almost rough embrace but the kiss he bestowed was tender and full of meaning. Bilbo could only melt into the heat of it and sigh at the feeling of, once again, coming home.

            “Now what, my love?” Bilbo asked as the broke the kiss but held each other still.

            “We reclaim our son,” Thorin stated.

            “Perfect,” Bilbo smiled because it was perfect.

            “We will go to the Khagolabbad,” Thorin added. “The Dwarfs will have no issue with us or Frodo—he will be spoiled and pampered.”

            “I'm not sure how I feel about the spoiled part,” Bilbo teased.

            “I fear you will be unable to stop my nephews or my sister from doing that.”

            _Or you,_ Bilbo thought. But he didn’t mind really. Frodo deserved to be spoiled--and especially by Thorin.

            “As for Bag End,” Thorin said looking around, “it is up to you, but as far as I’m concerned—fuck it, give it to Lobelia, let her have it.”

            Again Bilbo laughed. “Funny you said that. I had already decided to do that very thing and move with Frodo into Prim and Drogo’s little smial. I was just waiting for Mirabella to—” Bilbo pulled back with a gasp. “OH MY GODDESS! We never told Mirabella we found Frodo!”

            _Oops_

 

 

 


	13. And The Crowd Goes Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo loves being high (Thorin's the best for that), Mirabella is relieved (thrilled more like), Lobelia has much to say (when doesn't she?) but there is a surprise visitor that changes everything (Lobelia just met her match!)

* * *

 

           

            Bilbo went out to the back garden and collected Frodo. He wasn’t sure where Mirabella was, but there must be someone who could find her. _How many frantic grandmothers can there be running in and around Hobbit right now?_ Frodo hadn’t been that far from Hobbiton when he took off from her so he was fairly certain she would be close by.

            “She is probably half-out of mind by now,” Bilbo said as the all left Bag End.

            “Once she sees him,” Thorin said, “she’ll be fine.”

            Thorin refused to leave Bilbo and Frodo's side, and frankly, Bilbo was more than happy with that. Fili and Kili naturally, were not about to left behind.

            Frodo had insisted on riding on Thorin’s shoulders. “Mi’ter T’orin is so high!”

            “ _What_?!” Thorin asked laughing.

            “Yous t’e highitest D’orf ever!” Frodo said.

            “Oh,” Thorin said with a smile; cottoning on. “You like being up high, ughvashâ?”

            “Yeah!” Frodo said throwing his tiny fists into the air before crunching up his face in confusion. “W’ats t’at mean? Ugg—ugha—”

            “Ughvashâ,” Thorin said slowly. “It means _‘greatest treasure.’_ ”

            “Tweas’re!” Frodo said excitedly. “Cans wee go wook for tweas’re?!”

            “Of course!” Thorin said emphatically which elicited another cheer from Frodo, but Thorin added softly so only Bilbo could hear, “But then, I’ve already found mine.”

            Bilbo couldn’t help but smile. _That soppy, old Dwarf--he's going to make me start blubbing and then I’ll be snottier than a mountain troll with a head cold!  
_

“Yous t’e gwatestest D’oorf, Mi’ter T’orin!” Frodo exclaimed which earned him laughs from all the adults.

            “It’s Dwarf, Frodo. Dah—war—fff,” Kili said drawing out the ‘F’ for emphasis. “D.W.A.R.F.”

            “T’ats wad I say—D’oorf!” Frodo said clearly irritated with his little hands on his hips.  “Why no one lis'en toe me?!”

            Bilbo swallowed back a giggle. “We’re listening to you, sweetpea. You’re fine.”

            As they hurried along, Bilbo was a bit concerned; there didn’t seem to be anyone out and about. _They are all probably out helping to look for Frodo._

“Bilbo,” Fili said, pointing. “Look over at there.”

            Sure enough, there seemed to be many people milling about in front of the Green Dragon. They picked up their pace through Bagshot Row and once they were rounded Bywater Pool, and reached the junction of Bywater Road and Hobbiton Road, Bilbo could see Mirabella among the others standing there. So engrossed was the crowd, that no one noticed Bilbo and his group until they were almost on top of them.

            “Mira!” Bilbo called, finally catching the attention of Primula’s mother.

            A Collective cry went up as the crowd saw Frodo. As Thorin predicted, Mirabella was overjoyed to see her grandson, hugging the little one tight and covering the fauntling with kisses. Most of the people were laughing now and many of the ladies were smiling and a few had tears. Well, all except one.

            Lobelia.

            Lobelia was standing there with a few of her ‘friends’—Bilbo used the term loosely because all of them were Hobbits he knew to smile at a person’s face then turn and stab the person in the back.  

            “Where did you find him?!” Mirabella asked, clearly relieved.

            “I didn’t,” Bilbo said as he turned towards the Durin brothers. “We have Fili and Kili to thank for finding him.”

            The boys were quickly surrounded by Mira and many Hobbit mothers who thanked and hugged and kissed them on their cheeks to the point that both Dwarfs were blushing furiously. Of course, they were both very modest and said that Frodo was very well behaved and felt badly for getting lost.

            “Why did you run away, sweetness?” Mirabella asked.

            “T’e mean lady waz yellin’ lots and lots,” Frodo said pointing to Lobelia.

            “Why you little brat!” Lobelia snarled, taking a step closer.

            But Thorin was not having it. “Take one more step towards him and you’ll live to regret it!”

            “And just who do you think you are to threaten me, you dirty Dwarf?!” Lobelia shouted back with a sneer.

            _Oh I am so done with her!_

            "He is my Beloved!” Bilbo shoot back at Lobelia, as he stepped in front of Thorin and took up a defensive stance. “And I won’t tolerate you or anyone else speaking against him!”

            Bilbo was at his end. Lobelia had threatened him, blackmailed him, separated him from his son, all so she could get his home—which he was still inclined to just give her so that he could be free and take Frodo and go with Thorin. But she had pushed it to the limit and he was over it! He was over _all of it_!

            Bilbo’s declaration had an immediate effect on the crowd. Mirabella looked surprised as did many of his friends and supporters; Myrtle and Farabert Merrywheather, Myrtle’s sister Gemma Greenfield and her husband Wazo, Asphodel and Fortham Brownfoot, Rosemary and Toman Waterfield, Queenie Burrows and her husband Tosco – the blacksmith, and few other Brandybuck, Took and Baggins relatives. Bilbo could also see his cousin, Vervain Bolger-Baggins in the crowd.

            But there were those few that stood by Lobelia, and Bilbo saw them wrinkle their noses and sneer; they were also the first ones to speak out.

            “Beloved?! That’s disgusting!”

            “Always thought Baggins was a pervert!”

            “Glad I never let _my_ children anywhere near him.”

            “Fornicating with Dwarfs?! What’s next, Orcs?”

            “I told you he was filthy!”

            “He shouldn’t be allowed around descent folk.”

            But Bilbo's friends caught up and shouted down his detractors.

            “Oh, and you think _you’re_ descent folk, Ollie Broadbottom?” Verve called out. “You aren’t fit to wipe Bilbo’s boots!”

            “Exactly,” Myrtle yelled back at Lobelia’s crowd. “I’d have Bilbo watch my children before any of you!”

            “That goes for me too,” Rosemary shouted.

            “He’s a degenerate!” Milo Foxburr fired back.

            “How dare you call him that?!” Mirabella demanded.

            From there the shouting match between the two sides escalated. Mirabella handed Frodo off to Bilbo who cradled the fauntling close. Frodo buried his face and covered his ears, clearly upset with the shouting and yelling. Thorin stood next to them, one arms around Bilbo to hold him close, while his free hand came up and gently cradled Frodo’s head.

            The shouting just got louder and louder until Frodo actually started to cry. Bilbo was just about to ask Fili or Kili to take Frodo back up to Bag End and away from fighting when Lobelia’s sister-in-law spat out poison and changed the course of the entire situation.

            “Bilbo Baggins and his bastard child should be drowned!” Helga Bracegirdle spat out.

            _Well, seems Lobelia told more than just the Bagginses the story of Frodo’s parentage,_ Bilbo thought as the entire crowd suddenly stilled.

            Thorin though, stepped forward and put himself between Bilbo and Frodo and Lobelia’s crowd. “Lay a hand on my child and you will loose that hand to my sword!” Thorin’s murderous expression and powerful stance should have been enough to quiet the bigoted, mudslingers but, sadly it wasn’t.

            “Shut your mouth, Dwarf!” Lobelia’s husband, Ortho, threw out.

            “Yeah!” Lobelia’s son, Lotho, added. “You’re no match for all of us!”

            “Is that so?” came a cool, calm but authoritative female voice form behind the crowd.

            Everyone quieted and turned to see who the newcomer was, but Bilbo didn’t need Thorin to confirm his suspicions.

            “Dis!” Thorin called with a smile.

 

 

 


	14. Out of the Mouths of Babes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis is done (don't mess with Dis), Lobelia loses (ha, ha), Frodo like Adad (no Rs or Ls) and Bilbo wonders how he will survive (with love of course!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Khuz-dul Translations**  
>  Adad – father  
> Khagolabbad – Blue Mountains  
> Ughvashâ – greatest treasure

* * *

 

 

            The crowd parted and allowed Dis to ride through. She was followed closely by Dwalin, Ori and four Dwarf guards. Bilbo sighed in relief—they had back-up, and he almost laughed out loud when he caught sight of Ori and the young scribe waved cheerfully at him.

            “Am I late?” Dis asked in a casually amused tone. “Or have I arrived in the nick of time?”

            “As always, dear sister,” Thorin said with a smirk, “your timely is impeccable.”

            “Oh good,” Dis replied with a smile. “Upsetting to think my instincts were getting rusty.”

            Dis dismounted from her pony with all the grace and pose of an Elven princess—of course, Bilbo knew better than to pay that particular compliment to the Dwarrowdam. She was dressed so much like Thorin had when Bilbo first met him, that had Dis not been wearing a knee length dress, he might have mistaken the two of them for twins. Of course, Dis’ beautifully ample figure and graceful moves were also a give away; not to mention the calm and dangerously steely expression.

            Dis was every inch the beautiful, formidable Dwarrowdam Bilbo had been lead to believe.

            “Now then,” Dis said, as she and her party walked over and joined Thorin and Bilbo. “Someone said something about a child?”

            Everyone now turned back to Bilbo for an explanation.

            “Frodo is my child.” Bilbo said, no longer caring who knew. He was done hiding and pretending. “And he is Thorin’s as well.” There was gasps from his supports and jeers from his haters.

            There was much talking and arguing among the Hobbits and Mirabella looked stunned. Bilbo couldn’t blame her; she just found out that her grandchild wasn’t really.

            “I would so love an explanation of how this is even possible,” Dis said pointedly to Thorin and Bilbo. “But clearly it will have to wait.”

            “Yes,” Bilbo said, nodding. “Please bear with us.”

            “I have learned my dead brother and sons are alive,” Dis said with a cocked eyebrow. “So, the story of this little-one's ... _creation,_ ” Dis pointed to Frodo. “I think I can handle.”

            As Bilbo started listening to the crowd, he began to realize that his supporters were surprised if not outright shocked.

            “Bilbo had a _baby_?”

            “I thought that was just fairy tales!”

            “How does that even work?”

            “Is this really _true_ , Bilbo?” Mirabella blunt question tore right through him and Bilbo found that he could barely speak at this point. “Are you and this Dwarf really his fathers? Did Primula and Drogo even know?”

            “Yes, it’s true,” Verve said. “I was there. And Primula and Drogo were very, very supportive of Bilbo!”

            But the questions changed now and Bilbo thought he might be losing support.

            “You gave that precious baby up?”

            “I never would have expected that from you, Bilbo!”

            “Who gives up their baby?”

            “Bilbo—what were you thinking?”

            “Why would you let someone adopted him?”

            “It’s because of her!” Verve said, pointing at Lobelia. “She has something over him, but he never said.”

            “What could she have?”

            “You mean she forced his hand?”

            “That’s terrible!”

            “Why would she do that?”

            “BECAUSE HE AND THAT DWOBBIT BRAT ARE ABOMINATIONS!” Lobelia bellowed. “Bilbo is a perverted sicko and that _thing_ in his arms is just—”

            But Lobelia never got to say what Frodo _just_ was. Dis had reached out and grabbed Lobelia’s face in her vice like hand; pushing Lobelia’s cheeks together until the Hobbit’s lips puckered like a goldfish’s. Dis then drew Lobelia’s face closer as she herself leaned forward, and Dis’ free hand brought up the dagger she had unsheathed within a finger’s length away from Lobelia’s cheek.

            Dis wore a smile that dripped with danger, as she whispered, “I would suggest you keep your tongue within your unprepossessing face, or I will remove it and wear it on my belt as a trophy.”

            Lobelia’s eyes widened as she looked from Dis to the dagger that gleamed in hot afternoon sun.

            “Do we understand each other?” Dis asked sweetly, as if asking Lobelia if wanted one lump or two in her tea.

            Lobelia nodded and Dis released her.

            “I’m glad we see eye to eye,” Dis said towering over Lobelia, before she added dryly, “I would so hate for there to be any misunderstanding between us.” Dis turned to Bilbo with a smile. “Now that we have silence, why not tell your tale, Master Hobbit.”

            Bilbo nodded to Dis, looked to Thorin for encouragement, Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders, Bilbo took a deep breath and started. He talked of having Frodo, Prim and Drogo agreement to stay with him and pass Frodo off as their own so that they all could live in Bag End together, and Lobelia’s discovery of the truth and her demands and conditions for her silence. Bilbo then told of his reasons and fears and spoke of how, believing Thorin dead, he would not see Thorin’s child, their child, hurt or worse and decided that it would be better to let Frodo go to keep him safe and suffer the role of uncle, rather than father. By the end he was done, Bilbo was cried out, exhausted and tired, but for the first time since it all began, he felt free.

            He expected to be shamed and bear the brunt of his friend’s and family’s disappointment.

            He should have known better to expect any such thing.

            “Are you telling me,” Mirabella said incredulous, “that you actually believed Old Fraebert Merryweather?!”

            “You mean ‘Fathead’ Merryweather, don’t you Mira?” Verve said with a disgusted look.

            “We all heard those stories,” Bilbo said surprised.

            “That’s just it,” Verve said. “They were only stories—who in their right mind would drown their neighbor, let alone stone them?”

            “Disgusting what he told you faunts,” Tosco Burrows said. “But then he always was a piece of cow-shit, Old Merryweather.”

            “That’s why my parents never let me near him,” Farabert Merryweather added.

            “I always wondered why you never visited your uncle,” Myrtle, Farabert’s wife, said.

            “Mum hated him,” Farabert stated. “And Dad and he never got on because—” Farabert licked his lips and seemed very unsure or reluctant to go on.

            “Because why?” Bilbo asked.

            “Well, because,” Farabert looked at Myrtle and then squared his shoulders. “Because I wasn’t born of Mum. Dad bore me.”

            A few of Lobelia’s friends made snide remarks and comments to Farabert’s confession but they were quickly dealt with.

            “You shut your trap!” Tosco yelled.

            “Don’t you dare say nasty things about my husband!” Myrtle cried.

            “It doesn’t matter who birthed who,” Mirabella said.

            “Children are precious gifts,” Verve added. “Anyone that comes between a child and their parent is the depraved sicko!” Verve glared at Lobelia and seemed to dare the woman to countermand her comments.

            Verve didn’t need to wait long.

            “You are all insane!” Lobelia said.

            “Bilbo and that creature should be drowned!” Otho stated.

            As if on command, all the Dwarfs drew they weapons—even Ori brought forth Dwalin’s war hammer and held it at the ready. They all stood by Bilbo as Thorin took a step forward.

            “The first one to touch him will be the first to fall.” Thorin said with a growl.

            Lobelia’s group looked as if they would argue but then realized that they were not so numerous anymore. A few couples had left their side and joined Bilbo's. Apparently Lobelia’s separating a parent and child had been too much for them to agree on. However, just as Otho was about to challenge Thorin further, Bilbo’s Hobbit supporters stepped forward and stood with the Dwarfs.   It was now almost six to one and Lobelia’s group had no choice but to back down and admit defeat.

            “This discussion is over,” Verve said loudly and decisively. “I will personal speak for the majority of Bagginses when I say that a move against Bilbo is a move against the family.”

            “That goes for the Brandybucks,” Mirabella said as well. “And while there is no _official_ representative of the Tooks here, I'm sure I speak them, as well for the Thain; who I might _add_ is Bilbo’s grandfather and held Bilbo's mother as his favorite child.”

            The last bit seemed to do the trick—no one would go against the Thain in social matters.

            Everyone began to disperse and many wanted to congratulate Bilbo and meet Thorin. So happy were Bilbo’s supporters and family that no one was paying any attention, nor believed they needed to, and therefore, the vulnerable were left exposed.

            “Pervert!” Lotho bellowed and threw a large rock directly at Bilbo and Frodo.

            It all happened in slow motion. Bilbo heard the insult and had only enough time to clutch Frodo closer to his chest as the rock, nearly the size of Frodo’s head come arching through the air, straight for them both. Bilbo closed his eyes and prayed for Frodo’s safety—it was all he could do, when there was a--SMACK—the sound of something hard meeting something fleshy. Only, Bilbo didn’t feel a thing.

            When he opened his eyes, Bilbo was stunned upon seeing Thorin’s hand not but three centimeters from his face, holding the rock the Dwarf had so deftly snatched in mid-air. A heartbeat later, and a powerful flick of his wrist, Thorin sent the rock back on a return trajectory towards it’s thrower, who could only stand and stare in disbelief as the rock he had just tossed, raced back at him, hitting him square in the middle of the forehead and knocked him out cold into the mud.

            Lobelia and Otho dove for their son who was unconscious in the road, but everyone else just turned and left. Few had sympathy at that point and Thorin had no remorse—after all, he had warned them all.

            Many of Bilbo’s friends returned to Bag End, putting together an impromptu party, with the idea of getting to know the Dwarfs better, particularly Thorin. Dis heard the full story of Thorin’s and her son’s 'death' and offered to relinquish her rule of Thorin’s Halls in Khagolabbad, but Thorin refused. He has other responsibilities and frankly he was done with ruling.

            But there were a few things that needed to be talked about.

            Bilbo noticed that Frodo had disappeared from the parlour and went in search for him. It was in the pantry that Bilbo found the fauntling, just standing there in the darkened room.

            “What’s wrong, sweatpea?” Bilbo said kneeling. Frodo seemed very shy suddenly and before the child could answer, Thorin appeared behind Bilbo and he came down on one knee to be more level with the little-one.

            Bilbo was about to ask again, when Frodo spoke very softly. “Ar’s yous my Papa?”

            _Oh dear—clearly I didn’t have someone’s ears covered tightly enough._

            But Bilbo was done lying. “Yes, sweetpea,” Bilbo said softly. “I’m your Papa.”

            “W’ats about Mummy an’ Daddy?” Frodo asked quietly.

            Bilbo glanced at Thorin and saw the same thought reflected in his eyes. Neither wanted to take anything away from Frodo, nor disrespect Prim and Drogo. “They will always be your Mummy and Daddy. They loved you very much.”

            Frodo nodded and seemed to think things over. Bilbo was amazed that he was so clever! Then Frodo turned to Thorin. “Ar’s yous my Papa toe?”

            Thorin smiled; he clearly had an answer already. “I’m your Adad,” Thorin said gently. “It means ‘Papa’ in Khuz-dul. The secret language of the Dwarfs.”

            Frodo’s eyes lit up and he whispered, “It’s seacwet?

            “Yes,” Throin said, smiling.

            Frodo looked from one side and then to the other as if looking for someone in the shadows. “Cans I speaks it?”

            “Of course, ughvashâ,” Thorin said with a toothy grin.

            Frodo came forward and threw his little arms around Thorin’s neck. “T’anks, Adad!” Frodo said, giving Thorin a sloopy kiss on the cheek and apparently relishing the word ‘adad’ since there were no ‘Rs’ or ‘Ls’to trip him up.

            Thorin hugged the fauntling tightly and seemed at a lost for words upon hearing Frodo call him Adad. Naturally Bilbo couldn’t resist a gentle tease.

            “Adad,” Bilbo said and receiving a narrowed glare that bore no heat from Thorin.

            “Papa,” Thorin repeated and Bilbo felt a warm feeling spread through him.

            Frodo turned in Thorin’s arms and looked at Bilbo. “Papa,” Frodo asked sweetly, “Cans I haz cookies?”

            “I don’t know,” Bilbo said. _Already it’s starting! And look at that face! Yavanna help us all._ “It is almost dinnertime.” Bilbo stood, followed by Thorin who kept Frodo securely in his arms.

            “Pwease, Papa?” Frodo put on his best pout.

            “Yeah, Papa,” Thorin said with smirk. “Pwease?”

            “Sees! Even Adad wans cookies!” Frodo said with a little shrug.

            “Oh for heavens sake!” Bilbo as he heaved out a sigh.   “Fine.”

            “YAY!” Frodo cheered and Thorin wore a smug look.

            “But,” Bilbo said, poking Thorin in chest playfully. “I will blame you if he ruins his dinner.”

            Frodo turned and gave Bilbo a perplex scowl that was _unnervingly_ similar to Thorin’s. “I’s a Hobbit. T’ats nod poss’able.”

            Thorin roared out a laugh. “Out of the mouths of babes!”

            “Oh just get,” Bilbo said and swatted Thorin on the arse. _This is going to be the most impossible house to live in with those two around!_

            And Bilbo wouldn’t change a thing!

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE BEAUTIFUL FAMILY PORTRAIT IS BY EWEBEAN - FOLLOW HER HERE: http://ewebean.tumblr.com/


	15. Let's Try This Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin tells the story Frodo wanted - but it's not quite the story Bilbo remembers ..... oh and Bilbo has his own story to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Khuz-dul Translations**  
>  Adad – father  
> Ughvashâ – greatest treasure

* * *

 

 

            “Adad.” Frodo said, but got no response. “Adad!” Frodo tried a little louder.

            Thorin shook his head, clearing it. “What?”

            “What hap’in?” Frodo asked confused.

            “I’m sorry, ughvashâ—my mind wandered. Where was I?”

            “You says there was ah wizard and he brung twe’ve D’oorfs but another D’oorf gots lost,” Frodo said before adding, “T’wise.” Frodo held up two fingers as if to make sure his Adad understood the importance that it was more than once.

            “Oh yes,” Thorin said starting again. “So, one day, a wizard came to visit and he brought along thirteen Dwarfs. They all came to meet the most beautiful, bravest, little Hobbit ever.”

            “That was Papa,” Frodo added.

            “Yes, it was Papa,” Thorin said. “So the brave, little Hobbit agreed to go on an adventure and along they way, ran into Trolls and Elves—”

            “Icky Elfses,” Frodo interrupted under his breath and wrinkled his nose.

            “Yep,” Thorin said smirking. “But the brave, little Hobbit tricked the Trolls and turned them to stone and he dealt with the Elves so the mighty Dwarf-King didn’t have to. Then, they battled Goblins and the brave, little Hobbit saved the mighty Dwarf-King from the evil, Pale Orc! Along the way, the company made friends with a skin-changer and battled giant spiders in a haunted forest!”

            “What hap’in to t’e brave, littlest Hobbit?!” Frodo whispered urgently.

            “Well,” Thorin continued dramatically. “The brave, little Hobbit cast a magic spell and turned invisible and defeated the evil spiders, freeing his Dwarf friends! But he couldn’t stop the evil Elves from taking them prisoner!”

            “Stupid Elfses,” Frodo said again this time sticking out his tongue.

            “Exactly,” Thorin said. “So the nasty, vile, _ugly_ Elf-King threaten to keep them all in chains until they turned back to stone, but the brave, little Hobbit again cast a spell and used his charm to free them all so that they floated down the river in barrels!”

            “Wow,” Frodo said wide-eyed.

            “Finally they came to a town that floated on a cold, icy lake and the town’s men tried to stop the company but the brave, little Hobbit convinced the Men to let them all go and the company finally reached the Lonely Mountain.”

            “That’s where t’e evil Dragon was?!”

            “Yes! But the brave, little Hobbit riddled with the Dragon and tricked him into revealing the secret to defeat him! But the Dragon had cursed the gold and tried to drive the mighty Dwarf-King mad!”

            “Oh no!”

            “But again, the brave, little Hobbit saved the mighty Dwarf-King, defeated the armies of Ocs and saved the whole Mountain! He even dealt with the Elves so the mighty Dwarf-King didn’t have to even look at them.”

            “Dumb Elfses,” Frodo said with a scowl.

            “You have that right,” Thorin said with a nod. “Finally the brave, little Hobbit said it was time for him to go home because he missed his armchair and his books and all the plants in his garden. But the mighty Dwarf-King was too sad without his brave, little Hobbit and decided that he would rather be with his Hobbit, than anywhere else in the whole world.”

            “Did t’e migh'y D’oorf King loves the brave, littlest Hobbit?”

            “Yes, ughvashâ, more than anything.”

            “Did t’ey live happily ever afters?”

            “Until the end of their days.”

            Frodo smiled at that but then let out a huge yawn.

            “I think it’s time for you to go to sleep, little one.”

            Frodo nodded; he was more than willing to let his Adad carry him back to bed. Thorin tucked his son in, and kissed his forehead. “Good-night, little one,” Thorin whispered.

            “G’night Adad,” Frodo said with another yawn. “I loves you.”

            “I love you too, ughvashâ.”

            Thorin turned at the door to look back and saw that his son was already asleep. Smiling he walked out of the room only to run right into this Hobbit husband who was standing in the hallway with his arms crossed.

            “Brave, _little_ Hobbit?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow.  "The _mighty_ Dwarf-King?"

            Thorin smiled sheepishly. “How much did you hear, beloved?”

            “Oh, from, ‘ _Wills you tell me ah story?_ ’” Bilbo said in a near perfect imitation of their boy.

            “Ah,” Thorin said, caught. “So you heard all of it.”

            “Hmmm,” Bilbo nodded. “I don’t remember the story going _quite_ like you told it.”

            “Artist license.”

            “You left more than a few bits out.”

            “I trimmed the fat; that’s all.”

            “Nasty, dumb Elves?”

            Thorn just shrugged.

            Bilbo rolled-eyes. “Honestly, you are impossible.”

            “But I did tell the truth.”

            “Oh? And when was that?”

            “That the brave, little Hobbit saved the mighty Dwarf-King's life in more ways than one and that the mighty Dwarf-King was very sad without his Hobbit.” Thorin reached out and pulled Bilbo to him, resting their foreheads together.

            Bilbo reached up and placed his hands on either side of Thorin’s face. “Well, if it’s any consolation, the little Hobbit was miserable without his mighty Dwarf.”

            “And they lived happily ever after.”

            “Are you happy, my love?”

            Thorin pulled back to look at Bilbo. “Nothing could make me happier.”

            “Oh dear,” Bilbo said.

            “What’s wrong?” Thorin asked concerned.

            “Well, my love,” Bilbo said with a sly smile as he placed his hands on his belly. “I have some news for you.”

 

 

 


End file.
